A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 183: Winter's Moon (3)

"S-stop spewing that bullshit, you motherfucker—!" Epherene shouted.

For the first time in her life, a curse she had never spoken blasted from Epherene’s lips, ringing out like thunder and shaking the entire house. The walls trembled, and with a furious stomp, Epherene drove her foot into the ground.

“You son of a bitch—argh!”

Wood Steel gripped the back of her neck and commanded, "Be still."

“Let me go! Let me go!” Epherene shouted, thrashing like a fish pulled from water.

"This is your dream. If you stumble, you alone will face the consequences," Wood Steel said, his grip steady as he restrained her.

“... Why are you...!”

"Remember what you’ve learned so far. How long will you continue to remain so immature?"

The words felt as if they had come directly from Deculein himself, and because of that, Epherene found herself calming, though only slightly, before locking her burning eyes on Decalane.

Decalane smiled and said, “... Child, the day will come when you understand. Your destiny was sealed at the very moment you were conceived—”

At that moment, the metal fragments scattered by Wood Steel began to resonate, forming a barrier that disrupted the connection between air and matter. As a result, it silenced the world entirely, cutting off the transmission of sound.

Decalane shook his head with intentional slowness and moved his lips, though no sound escaped. Epherene followed the slight movements of his mouth, straining to piece together his muted words.

— In this world, you stand alone. Place your trust only in yourself.

And with that, Decalane faded into nothingness.

... The mansion’s room now blanketed in stillness, Epherene sat on the edge of the bed, struggling to catch her breath.

"What the hell was up with that freak...?" Epherene muttered, her brow furrowing in displeasure. "Stupid creep, dirtbag, bonehead."

Epherene chewed on her lip, glanced up at Wood Steel, and added, "If he was going to spew nonsense, he should have at least made it believable. Don’t you agree?"

Wood Steel glanced down at her in silence, as always, offering no response.

“... It doesn’t make sense, right? Why would my dad hate me?” Epherene continued. “Hah. Like I’d ever fall for that.”

Wood Steel stood in silence, offering no response.

"It's like, ridiculous..."

Epherene’s faint gradually faded as she turned to Wood Steel and said, "... But."

The man in Deculein’s guise remained silent throughout, his lips tightly sealed.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Epherene didn’t know the reason—no, she had a feeling she knew, but stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.

Wood Steel resembled Deculein, bore his memories, and ever chose silence over fabrication, for a lie could never stain his lips.

“You...”

Epherene stared blankly at Wood Steel, and within his icy eyes, a faint ripple of emotion appeared—sympathy.

“Why...?”

Snap—!

Wood Steel snapped his fingers.

At that moment, the walls of the mansion collapsed inward, pulling Epherene from her dream like a tide that dragged her back to reality.

"Oof!"

Epherene jerked upright, her eyes snapping open as they swept quickly over her surroundings.

However, something felt wrong. She couldn’t see anything—her vision was entirely overtaken by darkness, as if the world itself had been drained of light or her sight stolen away.

“I-I can’t see anything!”

***

"Oof!"

A strange noise broke the silence, and I turned toward its source.

Epherene, who had been sleeping face down, seemed to have finally woken up, with a piece of paper stuck to her face—Supply Evaluation of Rekordak—likely from the drool she had let slip while sleeping. She turned her head from side to side before a sudden shudder coursed through her, making her flinch as if a shadow had brushed her skin.

“I-I can’t see anything!” Epherene yelled. "... N-no way. Did he really do this to me?!"

I shook my head, not understanding who she meant. Meanwhile, Epherene flailed her arms about in the air as if trying to grab something.

Who is 'he' she is referring to? I thought, shaking my head.

"I can't see! Why, I, why can't I see?!" Epherene screamed, her arms swinging in all directions, scrambling for nothing but the empty air.

How pathetic, desperately swinging her arms like that. With each passing day, it felt as if she slipped further into her own foolishness.

"I can’t see anyth—"

With a flick of Telekinesis, I removed the paper stuck to her face.

Flitter, flutter, flutter—

The paper fluttered down to the floor, and Epherene, staring blankly as it fell, finally seemed to register the situation before her eyes turned toward me.

“... Oh.”

Sssss—

Epherene felt her face as if it were on fire, flushed deep red like a beet, and she stammered, "I-I'm sorry. I must have dozed off for a moment and wasn’t really myself—"

I used Telekinesis to float a sheet of paper toward her, and as soon as she saw it, Epherene flinched.

"This is to be submitted as a written explanation. Ensure that you include every detail of your wrongdoing," I instructed.

“... Yes, Professor.”

I picked up the fountain pen again; however, no progress was made on the sentence before me.

The letter I was drafting for the Imperial Palace was to follow a formal epistolary style, meant not only for the Empress herself but also for her officials. However, composing it felt strangely difficult, lacking the scholarly depth I had grown used to. Most of the books I had read in this world had been steeped in scholarship, philosophy, and magic, far outweighing literature.

“Hmm...”

However, there was a famous Chu Shi Biao, an official memorial letter from Earth, that came to my mind—a timeless masterpiece and the very epitome of such memorials. It opened with the iconic line, "I, Liang, humbly report—," written by Zhuge Liang, a record that even those with a passing interest in historical strategy games would likely have recognized.

I closed my eyes and let the words of the Chu Shi Biao settle in my mind, trying to reach back to the moment when he had drafted those lines and using my Comprehension to understand the emotions that must have shaped his thoughts.

I ignored the glance from the corner of Epherene's eye, its distraction fading as I focused on my lines, allowing the ink to trace its path across the blank page.

***

... Lately, the grand imperial hall of the Imperial Palace has been filled with meetings that flared like wildfire, occurring several times a day, whether Sophien attended or not, with heated debates about the outbreaks of demonic beasts,

The meetings crackled with tension, stoked by reports of demonic beasts swarming not only from the borders of the Northern and Western Regions, but also sweeping through the mountains and forests of the Central Region.

"Roharlak has completed the defenses to perfection; however, the issue lies with the Northern Region, Your Majesty," one of the officials reported.

Sophien sat upon the throne, her eyes sweeping over those gathered below.

"The reconnaissance from Rekordak reports that the number of demonic beasts has swelled to an unimaginable scale, Your Majesty."

The report from the Northern Region shook the foundations of the Imperial Palace. The scouts had depicted the landscape of the Land of Destruction and the dense clusters of demonic beasts, numbering well over tens of millions.

"So, Deculein was right after all," Sophien said

"... Yes, Your Majesty. For now, that seems to be the case."

The hall fell into a heavy silence as heads lowered. Those who had once criticized him or labeled him a false prophet because of his predictions now found themselves mute, their arrogance stripped away by the weight of truth.

"You always love to add a qualifier—'for now,' is it? Fucking idiots," Sophien scoffed, resting her chin on her hand.

“Our apologies—”

"Enough! I’m tired of hearing that—'My apologies this,' 'my apologies that'—from your mouths. If you wish to offer an apology, stop creating the circumstances that necessitate them in the first place! Enough of this—now, tell me your thoughts. Should we send reinforcements to the Northern Region or not?" Sophien demanded.

The officials exchanged glances with one another, none daring to speak. Though words hovered on their tongues, the weight of Sophien’s attention silenced them, fear rooting them in place.

"... If Professor Deculein’s predictions are indeed accurate," the elder Romelok began, "then the prospect of holding the Northern Region against such an overwhelming tide of demonic beasts is nothing short of impossible, Your Majesty."

"And what course of action do you propose?" Sophien inquired.

Romelok continued, "Professor Deculein is currently holding his position at Rekordak, driven by his singular ambition to secure the role of Chairman at the Mage Tower.

“However, I humbly suggest summoning him back to the Imperial Palace and strategizing the counteroffensive against the demonic beasts from a secure position, where we can more effectively defeat them, Your Majesty."

“So, you’re suggesting we abandon the Northern Region?” Sophien inquired.

"... This, Your Majesty, seems to be the most efficient course of action. It is not a complete abandonment, but a calculated retreat, with our efforts concentrated on the Gateway of Gethel—the key position between the Northern Region and the Central Regions."

It was a rational proposal. If that were to be the most dangerous wave of demonic beasts in the past thirty years—or perhaps in the Empire’s entire history—then surrendering half of the Northern Region would serve the Empire’s greater interests.

The Northern Region was not particularly profitable, after all, and losing half of it would hardly deal a significant blow to the Empire’s resources.

"The Gateway of Gethel, a natural fortress shaped by the land itself, is ideally suited for large-scale battles and sieges. By concentrating our forces there, we can engage the demonic beasts in a decisive campaign—"

Knock, knock—

At that moment, a knock resounded through the imperial grand hall, drawing the attention of Sophien and all the officials as they turned toward the door.

"How dare you disrupt the national assembly with such audacity?" Romelok thundered. "Identify yourself and your purpose at once!"

“A letter has arrived from the Northern Region, from Rekordak, Your Majesty,” the guard reported from outside the door.

“... Rekordak?” murmured the officials, their faces growing tense as they turned expectantly toward Sophien for her response.

"Let them in," Sophien commanded, devoid of emotion.

Creeeeak...

“I am deeply honored by your favor, Your Majesty,” said the adventurer, stepping forward with a scroll held in his hand, the sound of his boots thudding against the imperial grand hall’s polished floor as the heavy doors swung open.

"Who is the sender?" Romelok inquired, his brow furrowing.

"The sender is Deculein von Grahan-Yukline, sir. This report comes directly from Rekordak, detailing the current situation," the adventurer responded.

Romelock let out a bitter laugh and said, "Hmph, who?"

Sophien crossed one leg over the other, her posture relaxed, and with a slight nod, she responded, "If it’s a message from the field, it’s worth hearing. Step forward and read it aloud."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the adventurer said, bowing on one knee as he carefully opened the letter. “Ahem.”

Under the attentive eyes of the gathered officials, the adventurer cleared his throat, his voice rose through the grand hall, its echoes rippled against the vaulted ceiling like waves on a still lake.

"’I, Deculein, humbly report and present these words from a distant region to Your Majesty.

"’The late Emperor departed this world before fully realizing his noble vision or raising his banner to its rightful height. Your Majesty, at such a tender age, embraced the sacred duty, and it has always been my deepest aspiration to serve as a steadfast pillar of strength in Your Majesty's service.

"’I have always endeavored to shun lethargy, dedicating myself with unwavering diligence to repay the gracious words and boundless favor that Your Majesty has conferred upon me. I trust that every knight and loyal subject of the Imperial Palace shares this same devotion, each dedicating themselves to becoming a source of strength for Your Majesty...’”

Sophien listened disinterestedly, while the officials shifted awkwardly, some betraying a hint of admiration, for Deculein’s eloquent words had, unexpectedly and indirectly, defended those whom Sophien often regarded with disdain.

"’I was, by nature, a mere professor of the Mage Tower, one who sought no extraordinary path and clung selfishly to my own accomplishments.

"’Yet, Your Majesty, in Your boundless grace, chose to appoint me as an instructor mage, placing faith even in my meager insights and meeting my foolish words with laughter rather than reproach. Deeply moved by such immeasurable kindness, I resolved to devote myself entirely, withholding nothing and sparing neither effort nor body in service to Your Majesty.’”

Did I really do such a thing? Sophien thought, the memory lingering within her as she sifted through the distant corners of her mind.

"’... Therefore, I humbly collected the facts and figures from across the continent, striving to present a prediction that might, in some small measure, serve Your Majesty. Though I fervently wished my brief estimations would be proven wrong, the heavens, as indifferent as they may be, seem poised to unleash a harsh and biting storm upon the continent.

"’However, I shall not stand idly by nor permit internal or external adversaries to sow calamity upon the Empire, Your Majesty.

"’Thus, this is the time when theorcracy and monarchy must unite in perfect harmony, guided by unwavering determination and fair governance through justice—where merit is rewarded, and transgression is met with rightful discipline.

"’When the bitter winds of winter bear down upon us, the scholars and warriors of the Imperial Palace will undoubtedly become unshakable bastions of support for Your Majesty.’"

At those words, the officials lowered their heads in solemn silence. Deculein’s letter continued, expressing his concerns for the continent from the unforgiving expanse of the Northern Region, encouraging the officials, and extolling Her Majesty’s grace. It was, undeniably, the work of a loyal subject.

"’... I humbly aspire to remain always in service to Your Majesty, just as Your Majesty has always and graciously placed your trust in me, and it is my duty to repay that trust.

"’Your Majesty, though the Northern Region has long managed its own affairs, I shall remain here to enforce Your Majesty’s will. Even in this trial of winter, as countless demonic beasts threaten to breach the Empire’s borders, I, Deculein, shall neither falter nor retreat. I will stand resolute, ensuring that Your Majesty’s will shines brightly before all...’"

Sophien leaned back against the throne, her once regal posture now slackened, and an almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips.

"’Your Majesty is the guiding light of both the Empire and the continent, a hero graced with qualities that surpass even those of the greatest sages in history.

"’This humble servant places unwavering faith in Your Majesty and vows to weather this winter.

"’May Your Majesty’s noble health be perpetually strong, Your days ever tranquil, and Your heart forever graced with happiness,’" concluded the adventurer, who, having been entirely focused on reciting the message, carefully set the letter down and bowed deeply.

The lengthy memorial came to an end, leaving only silence in the imperial grand hall. However, in Sophien's heart, it was the final line that resonated deeply within her.

“‘... And Your heart forever graced with happiness.’”

Why is he so insistent on my happiness? Does he think some scraps of fortune might fall his way if I were to be happy? More than that, what bothers me even more is...

"... For someone capable of composing such eloquent letters...” Sophien murmured.

Why did the one he sent to me consist of no more than a few lines?

"Bring me that letter," Sophien commanded, clicking her tongue.

The adventurer, adopting the most respectful posture, presented the letter with both hands. Sophien opened it once more, her eyes tracing its lines in silence, as if unearthing the professor’s intent without a single word spoken, guided only by the movement of her eyes.

After much careful consideration, the Empress reached her decision.

"... I will keep this letter," Sophien declared, tucking it into her robes and, with a slight tilt of her chin toward Romelok, she continued, "Romelok, proceed from where you left off."

Romelok, who had previously insisted on the abandonment of the Northern Region before Deculein's letter arrived, found himself suddenly as silent as a mouse.

***

I stood before Epherene’s door in the Yukline mansion, an elegant structure nestled deep within the snowy heart of the forest.

As I stepped into Epherene’s room, I said, "Since Decalane continues to appear in your dreams, we are left with no choice but to...”

I paused, taking in the sight before me, as the space was awash with shades of pink, each corner suffused with the color, like the strokes of an overzealous painter.

“... Oh, this isn’t really how I planned for it to look... I mean—why did you come in like that...?” Epherene stammered as she used Telekinesis to shove a stuffed rabbit off the bed.

"That aside, we will make our entry through the Voice today," I said, shaking my head.

“... Oh, yes, Professor,” Epherene said, hugging her pillow close to her chest as she nodded.

"Rest first, and we will meet when the time comes."

"Yes, Professor..." Epherene muttered as she slowly lay down in her bed.

I settled into the rocking chair by the fireplace and let the book fall open in my hands.

“Umm, Professor, do I just sleep like this?”

I nodded in silence, letting my actions speak, before returning to the pages of my book.

“... I just sleep like this?”

I glared at her, cutting through the air between us, and said, “If you ask me one more time—”

“Oh, okay, I won’t ask! I won’t!” Epherene said, quickly closing her mouth.

I turned back to the book in my hands, but my thoughts soon strayed to the letter I had sent to the Imperial Palace. It had been written with the hope of securing reinforcements for our defense.

“Umm, Professor,” Epherene said. “I... we—"

I silenced her with Telekinesis, closing her mouth before she could say another word.

“Mm—mph!”

"Rest, now."

“... Ugh!” Epherene murmured, glaring at me, shaking her head, then spun around and pulled the blanket over herself.

Just as I believed she was finally going to fall asleep...

"Snore... snore... snore..."

Epherene fell asleep in mere seconds—a curious gift, one I had no reason to complain about.

Stepping closer, I placed my hand on her forehead.

“... Tch.”

The contact of bare skin against bare skin was unbearable, but wearing gloves would only betray my purpose.

Left with no alternatives, I closed my eyes and focused my mana, casting a Harmony category spell—Dream Contact. With this, we were now able to step into the World of the Voice together...