A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 280: Interpretation (1) Part 2

Pitter, patter…

On a rainy day in the heart of Yuren, Creáto of the imperial family stood still, staring up at a towering structure the people of Yuren referred to simply as the Building, where a massive poster hung on the wall.

Berbaldi, Star of Mana—Grand Prize Winner at the Magical Expo

Berbaldi, Star of Mana—Winner of the Floating Island’s Invention Grand Prize

“Berbaldi,” Creáto muttered as the rain rolled off his shoulders while he stood still, lost in silence, before a faint smile curved his lips. “… Berbaldi.”

Then, Creáto looked down at the paper he held. It was the official certificate from the expo, marked clearly with the label Gold Prize.

“… Small, isn’t it.”

Creáto, son of the former Emperor and younger brother to the current Empress, had neither his father’s ambition nor his sister’s talent for leadership. Within the imperial family, he was often described as the most unremarkable—an assessment he had learned to live with.

“I gave it what effort I could.”

However, this year, Creáto had hoped to make his mark at the magical expo—with an invention he’d poured his time and effort into, giving it everything he had. But things didn’t go the way he planned.

“But it seems it just won’t work out that way,” Creáto muttered, his footsteps heavy as he sat down on a nearby bench.

Rain continued to fall in a drizzle as Creáto closed his eyes.

“… Talent has a way of making one fragile.”

Had I not been born into the imperial family, had I been a commoner instead—would life have weighed on me so? Creáto thought.

Thump—

While Creáto sat wrapped in his usual isolation, caught between bitter reflection and wandering thought, he was surprised when someone sat down beside him with a splash of rain and turned to see who it was.

“… Hello. I’m Quay,” the man said, dressed in robes, introducing himself the moment their eyes met, without hesitation or reason.

“Quay? That’s a rather uncommon name,” Creáto replied with a smile and a nod.

“Has something happened?”

“… Something happened, you say,” Creáto muttered as he looked up at the sky, the rain from the stormy clouds falling onto the corners of his eyes. “Are you one of the expo’s men?”

Creáto asked, but Quay didn’t answer and smiled without saying a word.

“… Has anyone found out who Berbaldi really is?”

“Not yet.”

“… Haha,” Creáto muttered with the faintest smile.

Creáto glanced down again at the Gold Prize in his hand.

“Talent is a cruel and unfair thing,” Creáto continued. “It’s not that I lacked effort, nor was I idle… Yet an unknown mage, with a slapdash invention, swept past me as if I were nothing more than an afterthought.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed. But the greater cruelty and unfairness lie in knowing I must accept it. The talent of a mage with no name outshines mine more than I could ever hope for—and there’s no use denying it.”

“… Yes, it really is unfair,” Quay replied after letting the weight of Creáto’s words settle.

Creáto shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips, then paused, his brow tensing as he felt something brush against his fingers—Quay had reached out and taken his hand.

“Would you like to come with me?”

“… Do you even know who I am?”

“Grand Prince Creáto.”

“And knowing that, you are asking me to—”

At that moment, Quay made a single motion toward the sky, stopping the rain that had been pouring moments ago as the clouds broke apart, revealing a red sun glowing overhead.

“… Who are you?” Creáto asked, staring at Quay with eyes wide in shock.

“I am God—one who can give you what you desire,” Quay replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

***

Sophien had been up late, completely absorbed in the Holy Language, and somewhere along the way, before she even noticed, she had fallen asleep.

“Snore… snore…”

Although Sophien had studied for only six hours—just half a day—which was an incredible stretch of concentration for her, her body might be built like an Iron Man like mine, but she still hadn’t shaken off old habits of ennui and lethargy.

“Your Majesty,” I called.

I called Sophien, but since she didn’t respond, I slipped off my coat and draped it over her.

“May you rest peacefully.”

I whispered a brief goodbye before heading out into the Imperial Palace garden.

Chirrrrrrrrrp…

On a moonlit night in the garden, where crickets sang and the wind moved through the leaves, I took out a small hand mirror and looked into it in silence.

“… Yulie.”

The mirror caught a glint of Yulie’s armor, and within it, I saw her moving through the Land of Destruction, pushing herself down day after day with her death drawing a little nearer with each passing moment.

“Hup!”

At that moment, a loud cry broke through the garden.

“Haaaap!”

Out of nowhere, a cry cut through the night.

“Kyaaap!”

The voice was unusually loud and far too young; though I couldn’t explain why, it caught my interest, so I headed toward the sound, my steps crunching through the underbrush.

“Hup!”

I pushed past the last of the brush and saw where the voice had come from, the sight catching me off guard for a moment before I regained my composure and looked straight at them.

“Ow… my abs are feeling really tight,” Ria muttered.

It was that adventurer again—the one who resembled Yoo Ah-Ra too much, and for some reason, she was standing there rubbing her stomach while refining her mana.

“Alright, let’s try that again.”

That girl, Ria, didn’t seem like a properly named character yet—maybe an Easter egg Yoo Ah-Ra had dropped in or some NPC modeled after her—but where she came from or what she was supposed to do, I had no clue.

“Hooooooo…!”

Ria was using mana that wrapped around her small frame with a clarity I couldn’t ignore—something unique, no, it wasn’t just unique—my Sharp Eyesight told me exactly how talented she was.

“… Hup!”

Being able to see people—and their talent—through my Sharp Eyesight was something else. I could spot things even the person themselves hadn’t noticed. That’s why I was always a step ahead when it came to judging the value of talent or full Comprehension of it.

I could see possibility and potential as clearly as anything else, and perhaps that’s what I could call being born with the instincts of a mentor and a teacher, through and through.

What Ria was showing was so unexpected that it left even me momentarily stunned, and for a moment, I just stood there—completely taken off guard—staring at her like an idiot, forgetting I was supposed to know better.

“One more time.”

I moved a little closer, making no sound, watching Ria through the gap between the branches. Then I activated my Sharp Eyesight, letting mana flow through it as I examined her talent more closely through my vision.

“Muaow!”

Crackle—!

Ria let out a hiss like a cat as she released her mana, which spread through the garden like a thick mist, into which a single, unaware gnat floated before a snap of static dissolved its body into nothing but water and fire.

“… Elementalization, is it?” I muttered.

I remembered Elementalization as an overpowered attribute I’d seen in a game once, where anything your mana touched—living or not—would be reduced to its core elements and dissolved in the same way.

“Who was that?!”

At that moment, Ria shouted as soon as she picked up on my presence, then her mana came at me in a flash like a wave of blades.

Swoooooosh…

However, her mana broke apart before it could reach me, falling like mist and fading into a breeze, which made it easy to counter since Ria was still using her attribute in the most straightforward way possible.

“… Oh?” Ria muttered as she finally spotted me, her face caught in a tangle of surprise and something else. “Professor?”

“What are you doing here, in the Imperial Palace?”

“Sorry? Oh, I was told I could stay in the Imperial Palace—”

“More importantly,” I interrupted, stepping closer to Ria. “You’re far too indecisive—and far too simple.”

“… Sorry?” Ria asked, blinking up at me, her voice as open as ever .

There was something about Ria—her face and habits—that looked too much like Yoo Ah-Ra’s, and although I didn’t want to admit it, it always got under my skin.

“I’m referring to how you’re using your talent. You don’t even recognize its worth—and worse, you’re letting it go to waste. It’s like casting pearls before swine.”

***

“… It’s like casting pearls before swine,” Deculein said.

Ria was watching Deculein, who had appeared out of nowhere and snapped that she was a swine and that her talent was nothing but pearls thrown in the dirt.

“The way… I use my talent?” Ria asked.

“Indeed.”

“Umm…”

Deculein showed up out of nowhere, and for a second, Ria was caught off guard, not knowing how to react.

I believed I’d trained hard—hard enough to be proud of. Could it just be jealousy? Is he putting me down only because he can’t stand to see it? Ria thought.

“You’re talking about Elementalization, right?” Ria asked. “Which part, and what’s wrong with it?”

Elementalization was the talent Ria unlocked after fighting tooth and nail to clear a hidden dungeon—a reward only possible because she pushed herself to the brink.

It’s one of the rarest S-grade attributes in the entire game—and knowing it’s my talent, yeah, I’m proud of that.

“To begin with, the way you handle mana is fundamentally incorrect,” Deculein said.

The way I’ve been using mana has been incorrect from the very start?

Ria frowned as she looked at Deculein, the more she questioned his intentions, and honestly, it was understandable—no matter how much he acted like a different person now, the old Deculein she knew was a professor completely eaten up by his own insecurities.

“… Professor, what were you doing here?”

“That’s no concern of yours.”

“Have you been instructing Her Majesty, the Empress for a long time?” Ria asked.

Deculein didn’t answer, keeping his eyes locked on Ria with a stare that hummed with pressure, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

“… Why are you looking at me like that?”

Then Deculein let out a deep sigh, shook his head, and inquired, “Are you willing to learn?”

“… Sorry?”

“I inquired if you were willing to learn from me.”

“Learn… what?”

“You’ve been using both your mana and your talent the wrong way from the very beginning. It should have been corrected long ago,” Deculein said. “Ganesha taught you incorrectly.”

“Oh, no—I didn’t learn it from Ganesha,” Ria said. “I picked it up on my own.”

“… Hah,” Deculein murmured with a breath of laughter—somewhere between incredulity and satisfaction. “You’ve never been taught, and you’re already at this level.”

There was something in his words that felt like a compliment, and while Ria didn’t hate it, she still didn’t let down her guard.

“But why all of a sudden? Didn’t you try to kill us not long ago?”

“You’re not who you once were, and the one I meant to kill was that creature—half human, half demon, and nothing more.”

Deculein had a point—Carlos had always been his only target—and Ria had powered up fast, clearing hidden pieces like they were snacks, so it was no wonder she’d gotten this strong.

“Let me ask you once more,” Deculein said. “Are you willing to learn from me?”

Whooooosh…

Then, a breeze came right on time, cooling off the tense air. Ria stayed silent, her lips jutting in a sulk as she dragged her foot against the ground. Meanwhile, Deculein casually used Ductility to shape a chair beneath him, sat down, and pulled out a notebook, flipping it open as if settling into a study session.

“… Ahem.”

Ria cleared her throat—at least for now—politely refusing, but the notebook sparked her curiosity, and honestly, she wondered what Deculein was even doing here in the first place.

“What is that?” Ria asked. “Are you working on something?”

Then Deculein raised his eyes, watching Ria’s face for a moment before inquiring, “Do you, perhaps, happen to have any talent for language?”

“For language?”

“Indeed. The Imperial Palace is searching for a language specialist. It doesn’t necessarily have to be you—but as an adventurer, you may know someone.”

“Language… Do you mean the Runic language?” Ria asked.

Deculein seemed to decide there was nothing more to gain and dropped the conversation, his eyes returning to his notebook, while Ria, still muttering to herself about a language, was lost in thought—until a sudden idea hit her like lightning.

“It can’t be!” Ria shouted, her eyes flying open. “Do you mean the Holy Language?!”

At those words, Deculein’s brow twitched and his eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at Ria with a glare that could cut.

That look—he’s not faking it. It really is about the Holy Language. Deculein’s already reached the final quest—and I didn’t even see it coming! Ria thought.

“How is it that you know of the Holy Language?” Deculein inquired.

In that moment, everything turned upside down for Ria as her feet, no longer her own, were grabbed by Deculein’s Telekinesis through her shoes.

“Wait—”

“Answer properly,” Deculein continued, tucking his notebook back into his coat. “How could someone like you possibly know the Holy Language?”

The moment Ria mentioned the Holy Language, something in Deculein shifted instantly, making him look ready to kill her on the spot, his entire aura screaming danger.

“… I know it too,” Ria replied, swallowing hard.

“Of what.”

“Within the setting of the Holy Language, I know which of its numerous words are real and which are not—no, more than that. I know its most important revelation, having played this game dozens of times and read this scenario hundreds more—I didn’t just study it, but I lived it.

“‘Your indulgence shall lead to My death.’”

As soon as Ria spoke God’s Testament, Deculein froze, his eyes shooting wide open and his face contorting in disbelief, lines forming like a beast caught off guard.

“So please, put me down. Let’s just talk. Just talk, okay?” Ria said, meeting his eyes.