A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 353: The End of All (6)

“No need,” Sophien said, shaking her head and placing her finger on the corner of the Go board.

The large wooden board served as a stage, its nineteen horizontal and vertical lines forming three hundred sixty-one points of intersection. This game both sparked Sophien’s lethargic interest, awakened her competitive spirit, and acted as a mentor.

“As for a game such as Go, that will be a matter for another time.”

However, Sophien knew that reality was not a game of Go, but something right before her eyes, and she did not want to miss it by focusing solely on a mere wooden board.

“… Is that so?” Deculein replied.

Then, Deculein offered a regretful smile and casually spoke his words.

“I had planned to demonstrate a difference in station that is insurmountable, Your Majesty.”

“I am going easy on you, for if I win against you, there will be no more reason to play the game of Go,” Sophien said, glaring at Deculein.

“Is that so?”

“That is so.”

A challenger found it easy to be passionate, for there was always a goal to overcome and an opponent who would consistently best them.

However, one who had reached the pinnacle of their craft lost enthusiasm and always lived a dry and joyless life, until they eventually became lethargic, as Sophien did.

“The one at the pinnacle is always the dullest,” Sophien said, taking a step closer to Deculein, her hand moving as she looked up at his neat attire.

Rustle—

Sophien loosened Deculein’s tie and flipped up one side of his collar.

Deculein’s expression flinched.

“… Deculein,” Sophien called, looking deep into his eyes. “Who are you?”

Sophien asked him to tell her who he was.

Though the Empress had known Deculein until now, she remained unaware of his true name.

“You ask who I am, Your Majesty?” Deculein replied.

Sophien twisted her lips, forming a sneer.

“… I am asking what your true name is, since you have not given it to me yourself,” Sophien said.

Nevertheless, Deculein showed no sign of being shaken.

This man is always like that. In any situation, at any time, he keeps his composure, never showing humiliation or disgrace. Since he is ever constant and unchanging, even this moment with him feels like a routine—a routine that seems like it will go on forever. With him and me here, neither of us disappearing, just an ordinary existence that continues on, Sophien thought.

“However, for some reason, I believe I will know even without your telling me.”

Sophien once heard an unknown name muttered by someone, and it remained in her thoughts.

“Kim Woo-Jin.”

A slight trembling in Deculein’s pupil was more definitive evidence than anything else.

“… I see,” Deculein replied, nodding his head without denial or excuse, in a manner so befitting of himself. “Yes, that is also my name.”

Deculein said that Kim Woo-Jin was his name—no, that Kim Woo-Jin was also his name.

“I am Deculein, and I am Kim Woo-Jin. There is no truth in separating the two, for the real and the fake are one. Both of these souls hold Your Majesty in respect and affection.”

The words expressing his respect and affection, along with the tone he used, were enough to fluster Sophien and more than enough to render her silent for a short while.

As that happened, the sound of rain echoed vividly, the mana in the area slowly began to fill, Deculein’s magic was activating, and time was running short.

“… Even after hearing such words from you,” Sophien replied, her voice trembling, “do you believe that I can continue to live on?”

To live meant continuing one’s life, but for Sophien, the meaning of her existence lay not in the continent or the Empire, but in a single individual.

“I will be in such torment that my flesh will fall away even in the gentlest breeze, and I will see your face reflected in the water.”

Deculein listened in silence to the Empress’s complaints.

“Even if I were to bury myself in tiresome state affairs to forget you, such things would end too easily. In those empty moments, you would rise again,” Sophien continued with a smile. “No matter my efforts, I will eventually die, for I believe forgetting you would be more difficult than death itself.”

The feelings that spilled freely from Sophien’s heart were the very emotions she was becoming more certain of.

At that very moment, a trembling lighthouse appeared, as if it were the detached heart of the Empress

“However, knowing that my confession cannot change your heart, I have one question for you.”

For Sophien, only a single question and a single answer were needed.

“Yes, whatever it may be,” Deculein replied.

“Heh.”

Then, the smile that played on Sophien’s lips grew sly like a fox’s, and her eyes curved into the shape of a crescent moon.

“… My question is as follows,” Sophien said.

For some reason, Sophien’s voice had grown mischievous.

“As Deculein loved Yulie and Kim Woo-Jin loved Yoo Ah-Ra…”

He was Deculein but also Kim Woo-Jin, and therefore neither Deculein nor Kim Woo-Jin, but a harmonious soul of two people who had become one, which was why Sophien was asking him this question.

“Could you have brought yourself to love me?”

Could he have loved me? If more time had been granted, if the routine had continued, could he have loved me? Sophien thought.

Deculein seemed to be lost in thought for only a moment before his face quickly filled with confidence, and with that expression, he slowly looked down at her…

“I—”

“No,” Sophien interrupted, raising a hand to cover Deculein’s mouth and shaking her head. “… It would be better if I did not hear it.”

It cannot be helped. Regret will come, and sorrow as well, and if the pain becomes too deep, it will be the end of me, Sophien thought.

“… Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied, acquiescing to Sophien’s sudden change of heart.

“Then, this is the end,” Sophien said, looking up at Deculein with a smile.

“Yes, that is so, Your Majesty. It felt as though it lasted an age, yet looking back, it was but a moment.”

“That is indeed true,” Sophien replied, closing her eyes.

With my eyes shut, I am taken back to the day of our first encounter—Deculein, who came to me as an instructor mage. He taught me magic, clarified the runic language, and challenged me in games of Go and chess. He delivered me from a life of lethargy and ennui, showed me the emotion of love, and ultimately made me a mere human, Sophien thought.

“Your Majesty.”

The man who anchored me to this continent.

“The time has come,” Deculein replied.

At that moment, Sophien felt the magic particles gathering around her, and with the sensation of a spell and mana caressing her skin, she instinctively gripped her sword.

“Deculein,” Sophien said, looking up at him.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied in a hushed tone.

The word ‘Yes’, the title ‘Your Majesty’, the composure that always seals his words, his impeccable attire, and his noble bearing even more than anyone else’s…

“… I will find myself missing you.”

I will miss all of it, and the inability to see it again will make tears flow from my sorrow, Sophien thought.

“I will wish for nothing more than to see you.”

… At that moment, Deculein’s face hardened.

“You may go now,” Sophien said, a smile returning to her lips as she looked at Deculein’s expression before thrusting her sword into his heart.

As if a trigger had been pulled, the ground beneath the lighthouse shook, and Sophien’s mana could be seen piercing through the body of an Iron Man.

“… My wish for your happiness is equal…”

Sophien, holding her sword, looked at Deculein, watching the spell rising inside his body alongside the Empress’s mana.

“To the love I hold for you,” Sophien concluded.

Fwoooooooosh—

As Sophien muttered, his magic spread to the whole world, and the simplest spell of Telekinesis enveloped the entire continent, all life, and all existence, bringing them into his embrace…

***

“… Deculein did not kill even the child of a Scarletborn.”

Primien’s voice echoed in Elesol’s ear, the voice of Deculein who did not even kill a Scarletborn child.

“He knew I was a Scarletborn, yet he did not expose me.”

Elesol’s eyes scanned the analysis report that Yeriel had put out as she read the results of Louina’s interpretation of Deculein’s lighthouse.

“Elesol, you seem to have an idea as well, don’t you?”

It was the lighthouse that was leading the continent to destruction, but hidden within it was another meaning from Deculein.

“Deculein is not trying to kill the Scarletborn. Rather—”

Crumple—!

Elesol violently crumpled the analysis report and looked around.

Everyone was reading the same thing, and Ganesha, Gawain, Delic, and Maho were all silently reading the analysis report, their expressions somber and their faces darkened.

“… What, then?”

At that moment, Elesol turned to look as someone asked a question—it was Ellie.

“Then, what is your suggestion? Is your meaning that we must save the Professor?” Ellie asked Yeriel.

Yeriel glared at Ellie without a word.

“Even if you bring something like this, nothing will change. No, even if it did, we should not allow it. This is an interference with the Professor. Miss Yeriel, you know that, don’t you?”

The outcome Deculein wished for and planned was that, by becoming a villain—a great villain—and meeting his death, the chain of hatred would finally be severed.

“I know,” Yeriel replied. “I know it, too. But… he does not have to die, does he?”

Yeriel’s wish was simple—she hoped he would survive, that he would merely stay alive.

“He could pretend to be dead, couldn’t he?”

“How can one pretend to be dead when he is not a frog,” Ellie replied logically, her faint emotions making her detached even in such a situation.

However, Elesol held Ellie back.

“Then, you mean to leave it as it is? No, I cannot allow it,” Yeriel said, gritting her teeth.

I want to protect Deculein. In the same way that he protected me, I wish to protect him, Yeriel thought.

Yeriel took a single step toward that place beyond the lighthouse, which was frozen solid like an ice crystal…

“A heart without a purpose is a hindrance,” Ellie replied, blocking Yeriel. “Furthermore, we have received Her Majesty’s order that no one may approach that place…”

At that moment, a sudden tremor shook the foundation of the lighthouse and a magical presence erupted from all around, serving as evidence that the most important moment was imminent.

“Move!”

At that moment, Yeriel ran, unleashing a superhuman mana unknown even to herself, and without anyone able to stop her, she rushed to the place where time and space were frozen…

“Deculein—!”

Where Yulie was blocking and where Deculein stood, Yeriel shouted his name.

***

… Drip.

… Drip.

The rain that fell on the Land of Destruction, the rain that wetted the continent, was the water of life.

… Drip.

… Drip.

Quay stared at the rain pouring down from above and felt the purest magic that had sprung from this continent, the fading auras of countless humans extinguished by it, and Deculein, who had managed only to take one step.

“… This is a little different from the extinction of humanity you wished for.”

At Creáto’s words, Quay looked back and realized he was free from Deculein’s magic, for Quay himself was protecting him.

“Is this not your defeat, then?” Creáto continued, a sneer on his lips.

“No, there is little distinction between them. Regardless, they cannot come forth from the outer edge of the world,” Quay replied, shaking his head with composure.

Those confined to the outer edge of the world—a place that was neither space nor part of the world’s realm—would become non-existence.

“How can you be so certain?”

“It’s simple. Because I am still there as well,” Quay replied with a smile.

Not even Quay could bring himself to come out, since his original body remained there, and a mere human mage could not interfere with the outer edge of the world.

“Do you think it is possible?” Quay asked Creáto.

“Yes, I believe it is possible,” Creáto replied, his eyes on the view from the window.

… Drip.

… Drip.

Between the slowly falling rain, a giant celestial object appeared—the destruction that would pass judgment on this continent—silently approaching along with the rainwater.

“You are aware, are you not? A finite lifespan exists for every phenomenon, for every existence, and even for every non-existence,” Creáto continued.

Quay looked back at Creáto, his eyes clear and transparent.

“Immortality does not exist. Nothing may live forever. A giant may live for an age, but even they must one day die.”

Creáto, continuing his sentence, looked directly into Quay’s eyes.

“Therefore, time is a factor that must come before all others.”

Time is the most important factor. It is possible that his words are correct. But why do I, I wonder, feel a scoff coming on? Quay thought.

“Then, your words mean that only by waiting will the ruined continent regenerate, and that the outer edge of the world will naturally disappear on its own accord?” Quay replied with a grin.

“… Perhaps. Even magic has a lifespan, and a lifespan for your authority must surely exist as well,” Creáto said with a chuckle.

“Haha, even though that would require ten thousand years, perhaps even twenty thousand or more?”

As Creáto had said, the outer edge of the world must have a definite lifespan, and after that set time passes, the outer edge of the world will be dismantled, with the people trapped inside possibly able to return to the continent, but that would likely take ten thousand years—no, it might even be twenty thousand.

“Quay, did you not pray for ten thousand years?” Creáto asked.

“Yes, that is correct. Then they, too, would need ten thousand years to…”

At that moment, Quay stopped speaking, and it was clear that he had realized something.

“… Yes,” Creáto said, a smile on his lips as he looked at Quay. “Even if your authority cannot be eternal, something close to it exists on this continent.”

At those words, Quay smiled and, with a look of understanding, glanced at Creáto.

“… The Eternal Winter, is that what you refer to?”

Creáto shrugged, as if to say he would spare his words now.

“I had a feeling that would be the case. Epherene, and Deculein, were never trying to beat me alone from the start, were they?” Quay continued.

Deculein was not alone, nor were they just a pair with Epherene—there were three, perhaps four, maybe even five, six, or seven…

“… That is right,” Creáto replied in agreement.

… Drip.

… Drip.

As the rain thickened slowly, Quay looked on silently, lost in thought, and was soon soaked by the rain.

… Drip.

… Drip.

Quay stood there for a moment in a daze, then turned without a word, his legs moving with a somewhat mournful expression.

“Where are you going?” Creáto asked the departing Quay, watching him walk away.

“… I am going to meet Sophien,” Quay replied.

“Will this be the final battle?” Creáto asked, letting out a sigh.

“… Yes,” Quay replied, turning back to Creáto. “Now we must contend to see whose faith holds greater strength.”

Sophien awaited him from an unknown place, as all of Deculein’s and Epherene’s plans were predicated on the belief that Sophien would triumph over Quay.

“As God, I must break them.”