A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 293: Emotions of the Desert (2)

Soon after Deculein departed on the command to track the prisoner, Empress Sophien stood on the uppermost floor of the main building he had designed and silently took in her surroundings as a strange sense of nostalgia washed over her, drawn not from memory but from the familiarity of the architecture.

The place had been designed to resemble the Imperial Palace, and aside from the desert stretching beyond the windows, everything inside felt familiar as a gesture from Deculein—his way of offering Sophien a sense of comfort and a feeling of being at home.

Thud, thud—

Sophien walked to the bed with heavy steps, let herself fall onto it, and stared at the ceiling, her mind clouded with scattered thoughts and a simmering anger that refused to fade.

“… It is indeed difficult,” Sophien muttered.

I’ve made sense of cause and effect, governance and politics, scholarship and the martial arts, even magic and swordsmanship—and yet, it’s human emotion that proves the most difficult of all.

Because I didn’t know of the emotions—mine and his—and everything felt unfamiliar, was I fooling myself into thinking he held deep affection for me? Did I presume too much—that he would accept me without hesitation? I thought I had approached him as I would any political matter, guided by reason and past patterns, but was my calculation off from the beginning? Sophien thought.

“Tch.”

When it came to human relationships, Sophien was impatient, often too uncertain—understandably so, since in all her long years, she’d never properly had a chance to learn.

“… Damned fool.”

Therefore, Sophien couldn’t begin to understand the depth of the feeling Deculein held for Yulie and couldn’t tell if such an overwhelming emotion could ever exist, one strong enough to stake not only his life but the honor of his entire house.

“One way or another, Yulie will die,” Sophien muttered, shaking her head with a thin smile—as if that thought brought her some strange kind of peace.

I already know Yulie’s state is irreparable. If I wait long enough, will he come to me on his own? Was I the fool for moving too soon when time itself might have done the work for me? Sophien thought.

“… Keiron—does it make any sense for an Empress to be distressed over something like this?” Sophien asked.

Lost in a question with no answer, Sophien felt a sudden rush of anger because as Empress there had never been anything she lacked and nothing she couldn’t take, for the most dominant Empire on the continent was hers, and every noble and house beneath it was, in the end, little more than an extension of the Imperial Palace and its might.

“That an Empress cannot outmatch a woman fated to die—”

However, the fact that she couldn’t have even one man left her uneasy and speaking to herself like an idiot, as Sophien began to wonder if she was worthy of the name Empress anymore.

— No, Your Majesty.

From somewhere within the room came Keiron’s voice, and as always, he stood with the Empress as a statue carved in a knight’s form.

“What, exactly, is it you’re denying?”

— Knight Yulie is not a woman fated to die, Your Majesty.

At that moment, Sophien narrowed her eyes, but before she could ask what he meant, Keiron answered.

— It seems they’ve discovered a means to save Knight Yulie.

***

At that same moment, in another oasis far from where Sophien was located.

“I found it!” Epherene shouted.

Got it—the lantern flower! Epherene thought.

“See? I told you I’d find it,” Epherene continued, her smile as bright as spring sunlight as she held the lantern flower out to Yulie.

“Yes, you really did,” Yulie replied.

Epherene and Yulie were caked in sand and mud after searching every corner of the oasis, their bodies covered in wounds from fighting the scorpion beast, yet their hearts were full and smiles lit their faces as they looked at each other—all because of a single lantern flower.

“Look—we found it in just a day, even though it’s one of the rarest out there. That has to mean Knight Yulie will survive,” Epherene said, gently placing the lantern flower into her pouch of medicinal herbs. “Now all that’s left is a large mana stone. Though I wouldn’t say no to more lantern flowers.”

“… Is that so?”

“Of course. Oh—and how are you feeling? You did use mana earlier.”

“I’m fine.”

“Because of that crazy scorpion beast,” Epherene said, frowning at the giant scorpion frozen nearby.

“Then let us head back, Miss Epherene. You’ve walked long enough through the desert, and I fear you’re close to exhaustion,” Yulie said, her armor an unspoken mark of her discipline as a knight.

“Okay, I’ll contact Assistant Professor Allen. By the way—did you write in your diary today?”

“Yes, I have.”

Freyden’s armor, known as the Armor of Snow, was a treasure granted only to those bloodlines, with the emblem of the knight embossed on its chestplate.

“Make sure to keep it up every single day. I’ll be checking, you know.”

“… Yes, I’ll make sure not to miss a day.”

The decoration of a knight embossed from mana stone was a common ornament found on most armor, but in a broader sense, it was also a statue.

Therefore…

“I really mean it. After throwing myself into all this, if something happens to you, Knight Yulie, I wouldn’t be able to see the Professor again—not that I really can now…”

Keiron was watching them in silence.

***

Back in the main building of the desert, Sophien’s expression turned to ice the moment she heard the news, like glass on the verge of shattering, but behind that brittle mask, fire raged through her heart.

“Scurrying through her death like a cockroach she is,” Sophien said.

The anger burning in Sophien was honest and consuming, so raw she couldn’t begin to understand it nor did she try as it licked at her like a flame with a mind of its own, and Keiron—the cause of it all—said nothing.

“Keiron, keep tracking them and report the location of their hideout—every stone of it.”

— Yes, Your Majesty. But if I may, what will you do with them once they’re found?

“Hmph,” Sophien murmured, the sound closer to contempt with a sneer. “To rewind time for a single soul is to go against the natural order. How arrogant and presumptuous.”

Keiron watched Sophien in silence—watched her burning with a fury she tried to justify, building reasons from thin air just to hold onto the fire.

“It’s nothing more than running from one’s own life—and that too is death by another name.”

— However, if the present self is written into a diary—might that not be enough to preserve the memory?

“A diary? Memories preserved in such a thing are fractured—nothing but fakes. Do you truly believe that with a single diary, the Yulie of the past could ever assimilate into the one standing here now?” Sophien replied, shaking her head with each word crushed out like a blade between her teeth. “Therefore, I will see to her end myself.”

— … Just a moment, Your Majesty—I ask you to hold your words.

Keiron’s words felt oddly out of place, as if it didn’t belong in the moment.

“What reason do you have to stay my words?” Sophien asked, her eyes narrowing.

— There’s someone listening who should not be.

Clang—!

At that moment, the sudden clang of steel echoed from outside the main building, and Sophien turned to look out the window.

“… That must be.”

Outside, a child was facing another Keiron statue that Deculein had sculpted separately, and the child had a face Sophien recognized.

“Ria,” Sophien muttered.

Ria—the child who had once offered a key insight into interpreting the Holy Language—was the same girl who had been caught by Keiron while daring to spy on the Empress.

“Wait!” Ria said.

Either way, Ria now stood before Keiron’s sword.

“Let me explain… Oh?”

By using Elementalization to counter Keiron’s overwhelming strikes of his sword and mana, Ria somehow managed to hold her own.

“Oh, this is more doable than I thought,” Ria concluded.

However, whether it was the result of Deculein’s training or because Keiron was going easy on her, even Ria herself was surprised that she was not losing her ground…

***

I was tracking the prisoners using nothing but my Sharp Eyesight, seeing every trace left behind and every sign of passage clearly, and with the weight of prisoners slowing them down, there was no escaping me.

“… Of course, it seems the Scarletborn had good reason to name you the Grim Reaper, Deculein,” Idnik said, shaking her head as I appeared behind her—just as she was transporting the prisoners elsewhere.

“You can’t take to the skies or melt away into the earth—not with that bundle in your hands weighing you down,” I replied, pointing to the bundle in Idnik’s hand, which looked ordinary enough, but inside was a prisoner, and within that space, hundreds of tribe members trembled under the effect of Minimization.

Then I added, “However, I’ll grant you this—your technique in magic is exceptional enough to merit recognition in Academia.”

Minimizing not animals but hundreds of humans and packing them into a single bundle—even with their consent—was a spell only Idnik could come up with, unbelievable and somehow completely in character for her.

“… Back then, you couldn’t even keep up with the dirt on my heels—and now you compliment me like you’ve done it all your life,” Idnik replied with a chuckle as she shrugged.

“Leave the bundle—and walk away,” I said.

For a split second, Idnik’s expression hardened as the desert sand stirred with sudden violence and I tightened my grip around my staff.

“The desert is my homeland, Deculein—and it was Rohakan’s before me, your own mentor,” Idnik replied, her words thick with hostility. “I will not stand by while your Empire, least of all your Empress, claws through it like carrion after bone.”

“Hmm, that’s unexpected,” I said, a smile slipping as I looked toward Idnik, the corner of my mouth curling. “In that, we’re of one mind.”

“Therefore… What was that?” Idnik muttered, pulling a face before tilting her head, her expression unchanged.

“Why the surprise? The expedition to the desert served neither political gain nor national interest. Her Majesty stood to lose more than she could win—and most ministers opposed the war, even if only in silence.”

Idnik didn’t say a word, her mouth staying shut as if she was somewhere far inside her own head.

“The Scarletborn no longer have the will to resist the Empire. Pressing steel against their throats now is no different from demanding a worm writhe beneath us. They’ll wither on their own without the need for blood,” I added.

“… Are you criticizing Sophien’s policy?” Idnik said.

“Indeed, I am. Not every word from Her Majesty is righteous by default—and it is my duty as her loyal subject to guide it back to righteousness, no matter how grave the cost.”

The expedition to the desert and the hatred for the Scarletborn were none of Sophien’s will because it was all the result of a program Quay had embedded deep in her mind, just another one of his twisted tricks.

“If that’s true, then let me go, and I’ll admit your words weren’t just for show,” Idnik said.

“That is not something I can permit,” I replied, shaking my head.

“Why is that?” Idnik asked, her brow tightening.

“Because it was Her Majesty’s command.”

“… Don’t you yourself think your words contradict each other?”

“Then perhaps you ought to revisit your understanding of logic.”

Idnik closed her eyes for a moment, exhaled a breath laced with restrained heat—like she was holding back her anger—and then opened them again.

“It is my duty to counsel Her Majesty so that her policy may serve both justice and her own best interest, but unless I am given just reason to refuse her command, I will obey without hesitation.”

It wouldn’t be wrong to say this was part of Deculein’s program, and no matter how much I advised or warned Sophien, if she pushed through with an order, I wouldn’t have been able to disobey.

“What reason would cause you to refuse her command?”

“Only if Her Majesty’s life were at stake, but that is not the case now. Now hand over the prisoners.”

Idnik remained silent.

“I won’t see all the prisoners put to death. No—I will make every effort to spare as many as I can,” I added.

“… Is that a promise?”

“To the utmost of my ability.”

I wasn’t the type to throw around promises and Idnik knew that, her eyes trembling with doubt and torn with hesitation, but in the end she clenched her teeth and steeled herself.

“And how exactly do you propose to offer that counsel—after you’ve handed over every last tribe in the desert?”

“Hmm, who knows?”

“… Did you say who knows?”

“Indeed, why are you asking me that?” I replied, slipping a hand into my inner pocket.

I pretended to reach for my pocket watch and let a sheet of magic paper slip from my hand—anything but ordinary and enhanced with a level 5 Midas Touch—while Idnik’s eyes moved toward it just for a moment.

“You ought to figure that out on your own.”

Using Telekinesis, I snatched Idnik’s bundle in a calculated move, and though surprised, she didn’t resist but instead used her own Telekinesis to pull the magic paper I’d dropped from the ground as if in exchange.

“Then I will take my leave,” I said, turning away without looking back.

“Deculein, don’t you think it’s time for you to meet Yulie?” Idnik asked from behind me.

Yulie was the one name that always made my thoughts stop, even if just for a moment.

“… We’ve found a way for her to be saved.”

At that moment, warmth sparked in my chest, and just hearing her name was enough to send a strange rush of heat through me.

“My priorities lie elsewhere,” I replied, shaking my head.

However, with the bundle of prisoners in my arms, I turned back and returned to the Empress who had given the command.

“… What do you mean your priorities lie elsewhere,” Idnik muttered, watching Deculein walk away and clicking her tongue.

Everyone knows that Yulie has always been the name written at the top of your priorities, Idnik thought.

“Anyway, if that trade was made for scraps, I’ll chase him—and take it back,” Idnik muttered, watching the magic paper Deculein had accidentally dropped from his pocket.

It was practically a trade—paper for prisoners—and if that paper had turned out to be worthless, Idnik looked ready to storm off, maybe even slap him and reclaim the prisoners herself, but the moment she saw the sheer volume of magic paper, her face turned to something close to disbelief, her eyes nearly popping from her skull.

“… What the hell.”

What was written on that magic paper was a grand magic Idnik had never seen or heard of before, already tailored with circuits designed specifically to be deployed across the entire desert.

Its only purpose was a massive explosion for mass annihilation that, if triggered, would wipe out everyone who so much as set foot on the sands in a calculated mutually assured destruction.

“Unless he is given just reason to refuse her command… it is only if Her Majesty’s life were at stake.”

It was something that left Sophien with no choice but to inevitably leave the desert.

“That was his meaning all along?” Idnik muttered, a dry laugh slipping past her lips, a sound only disbelief would allow.

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