A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 188: Younger Sibling (1)

Trolls and gargoyles share similar habitats and are both infamous for leading the southern advance, their presence marking the first wave of war. Forest trolls are exceptionally quick on their feet, while gargoyles, with their extreme aggression, dominate the skies as winged demonic beasts.

From the walls of Rekordak, I looked upon the advancing horde of demonic beasts. Some charged across the earth, each step shaking the ground, while others streaked through the skies, their cries slicing through the air. The beasts themselves were nothing special, but their numbers blanketed the horizon—an overwhelming tide that demanded reckoning.

“... Prepare,” I commanded, raising my right hand.

Behind me, nineteen Wood Steel blades rose into the air, their gleaming forms hovering with purpose, while the soldiers’ automatic crossbows were aimed skyward and at the ground. From the earth itself, the knights’ mana began to rise, a shimmering force coiling like mist before a storm.

“Fire.”

The command was straightforward, its simplicity carrying a weight that required no volume.

Creeeeak—!

The triggers were pulled, and the crossbows roared to life. Bolts—more akin to harpoons than arrows—cut through the air in straight lines, tearing across the sky and the earth alike.

Whissshhhh—!

The barrage of bolts, fired without a clear target, tore through the trolls and gargoyles. The gargoyles' wings were shredded, and the trolls' thick neck hides were skewered clean through.

Whoooosh—!

Amid the chaos, the nineteen Wood Steel blades weaved through like bolts of lightning. Infused with my mana, they had already surpassed the speed of sound, striking faster than their echoes could follow. Each spear carved through the monsters’ vital points with deadly precision, dismantling the horde of hundreds—if not thousands.

"... Raaaah—!"

A thunderous roar tore through the chaos as Epherene shaped the wind into a lethal blade. With a single, fluid motion, she unleashed it, slicing the gargoyle clean in two.

“Hup!”

“Behold, Sirio has arrived!”

Following closely behind, Yulie, Sirio, and the other knights advanced. Without hesitation, they leaped from the walls, their blades flashing and mana surging as they overwhelmed the swarm of demonic beasts below.

Among the hundreds of knights, my eyes instinctively followed Yulie. Even on this chaotic battlefield, her swordplay flowed with the grace of a blooming flower swaying in the wind.

“Boss, what has caught your eye so intently?” Louina asked, lightly tapping my shoulder.

I commanded the Wood Steel once more under my control.

Grrrrraaaah—!

The guttural cries of trolls and gargoyles echoed across the battlefield; however, the walls stood impervious to their assault. Hundreds of knights surged forward, an unstoppable force, while dozens of mages and crossbowmen provided support. It was nothing short of a massacre.

“I’ll leave this to you,” I said to Louina.

Louina gave a small nod of acknowledgment.

I had other matters on my plate.

***

As the battle raged on, Jacken of the Scarletborn slipped into motion within the merchant guild. A member of a tribe harboring deep resentment toward the Empire, he had proudly pledged allegiance to the Altar. From the very beginning, his sole purpose had been the destruction of Rekordak.

“Ahem,” Jacken muttered.

Jacken pretended to casually look around the area as he stepped out of his accommodation. He ordered a dozen members of his tribe to keep watch, then slipped away alone toward the food storage he had carefully marked in advance.

“... There it is.”

If I destroy this lifeline—the food supplies from the merchant guild, as well as all the supplies keeping Rekordak alive—Deculein won’t last here long... Jacken thought.

“They’ve locked this place up tight,” Jacken murmured.

The food storage was sealed behind layers of magical security, each spell overlapping tightly with the next. However, he had already anticipated this. Without hesitation, he pressed a scroll against the door—an explosive spell of the highest grade, gifted by the Altar itself.

Just as he was about to direct his mana into the scroll...

“What are you doing?”

Jacken flinched and spun around, his heart and stomach lurching violently, as if tangled together in panic.

“... Wh-who are you?” Jacken asked.

As Jacken barely managed to calm himself and turned around, he found a child standing there.

“You shouldn’t be out here right now. Something really scary is happening!”

Jacken let out a sigh of relief, shaking his head as he replied, “I can take care of myself, kid. You should go back inside where it’s safe.”

“What is that? I saw you stick something on the storage just now,” the child asked.

“... That’s none of your concern. Are you from the mountain villages?” Jacken asked, positioning himself to hide the scroll from view.

“Nope, I’m an adventurer.”

“... An adventurer?”

“Yes, I’m Ria.”

A child like this, calling herself an adventurer? At barely five feet tall, she might pass for a young teen, but that babyish face—she’s clearly just a kid, Jacken thought, furrowing his brow as he scanned her from head to toe.

“Don’t be ridiculous and go back inside before you get hurt—”

At that moment, the child darted forward, and with a single step, she closed the distance to the storage, pressing herself against the wall as her eyes locked onto the explosive scroll attached to its surface.

“... Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“This is an explosive scroll, isn’t it?” Ria asked.

“What? What are you...? Ugh, enough!” Jacken exclaimed, pushing the child to the side.

Just as Jackan was about to direct his mana to activate the scroll...

"Move even a little, and I’ll kill you," Ria said.

A dagger slid beneath the blade pressed against his side, freezing Jacken in place. Without moving his head, he rolled his eyes toward his back. The child, Ria, was standing there, her eyes sharper than any assassin's, locked onto him.

“... Gulp.”

“Don’t even swallow,” Ria warned.

Thud—

At the sound of approaching footsteps, both Jacken and Ria turned in that direction.

“This is where you’ve been.”

Standing there was Deculein, and he was not alone. Jacken’s merchant guild—thirty-nine mercenaries and members, excluding Jacken himself—was bound together by Deculein’s steel chains.

“... So, you are the one they call Jacken.”

At those words, Ria lowered her dagger, and Deculein stepped forward, his eyes locked on Jacken. By then, Jacken’s entire body was drenched in sweat.

“Kneel,” Deculein commanded.

“... Oh, I—”

“Before I tear you apart, piece by piece and leave your broken remains to rot."

The weight of those words bore down on Jacken as if they were crushing him with force, and before he realized it, he was on his knees, his legs having given out.

Riiip—

Ria tore the explosive scroll from the wall and carried it to Deculein, who looked at her in silence.

"Did I do well?" Ria asked with a bright smile.

“The supplies have already been moved,” Deculein said, brushing past Ria without another word.

Ria’s smile deepened, her lips curving upward.

“How foolish,” Deculein said, dripping with contempt as he closed the distance to Jacken. Without hesitation, he bound him tightly with steel threads.

“... Urgh!”

“You are the kind of people who drag the future of the Scarletborn backward,” Deculein said.

Ria observed Deculein for a moment, and while his face bore a resemblance to Kim Woo-Jin's, his personality was cruel, devoid of even a trace of warmth.

“... Um, Professor, what are you going to do with him?” Ria asked, tilting her head as if out of curiosity.

At her question, Deculein tilted his head ever so slightly toward Ria and, in the coldest and most indifferent tone, uttered words that carried the finality of death.

“I have already said earlier—I will tear him apart, piece by piece.”

***

... Tear him apart, piece by piece.

Elesol reached the ridgeline overlooking Rekordak and took in the scene below. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she sank into thought.

"What should we do, Elder?” Dulkorn, the Watcher of the Desert, asked cautiously.

Elesol responded with sign language.

— How is Yeriel doing?

“It seems she is sleeping inside the carriage,” Dulkorn replied.

Elesol nodded and continued.

— Jacken of the Red Blood Tribe had made a dumb move.

“Yes, he did,” Dulkorn agreed.

— What they have done must not come to the attention of the Imperial Palace.

If word spread that the Scarletborn were behind an attack on Deculein, the gas chambers in the concentration camp would be set into motion without delay. For that reason, it was imperative that no suspect be linked to his assassination; this was an absolute necessity.

— We have no other option but to rely on our own methods.

“Regarding the methods... Elder, may I ask what happened between you and the Great Elder?”

— If you come to know the truth, it will no longer be a method.

“... Yes, Elder,” Dulkorn replied, asking no further questions.

Elesol recalled the day she met with the Great Elder. Even then, she had adamantly insisted on the assassination of Deculein.

Although the Great Elder tried to dissuade her, it became clear that she could not be easily swayed. Accepting that he could not change her mind, the Great Elder handed her a ledger. Within its pages was the Great Elder’s unique attribute—the Prosoponyms of the Scarletborn.

— We will deal with Jacken ourselves.

Elesol continued with her sign language.

— For that, I will go in alone. Tonight, to Deculein.

“But, Great Elder, that’s too dangerous. Deculein is—”

— It’s fine.

Elesol turned to look behind her, inside the Carriage of Spatial Distortion, crafted through Ellie’s talent, where Yeriel rested asleep.

— This time, he will come to understand—there’s no other choice.

***

Boom—! Boom—! Boom—!

Night had fallen, and the sky was glowing with the light of the moon and stars. Frost settled over the land, brought by the biting chill of the harsh winter air. However, the battle raged on. Though the numbers of trolls and gargoyles had thinned, the waves of their advancing forces showed no sign of stopping.

"Yulie, we’ll go ahead first," Gwen said.

After eight long hours of battle, the knights weren’t showing any signs of exhaustion; however, the faint shadow of boredom crept onto their faces.

“Please, go ahead,” Yulie replied.

Yulie volunteered for the night watch, and with nearly five hundred demonic beasts still advancing every hour, it was a responsibility she could not leave entirely to the soldiers and prisoners alone.

"Take it easy, alright, Yulie?”

Leaning against the wall, Yulie opened Deculein’s analysis and began reading, but she wasn’t alone—Reylie stayed by her side.

“Is that report really worth reading?” Reylie asked.

“... It holds all the sound advice,” Yulie admitted.

“I mean, you have a deeper understanding of swordsmanship than he does...”

“I thought the same as well. However, credit must go where it’s due. Professor’s knowledge makes him capable of instructing anyone from a theoretical standpoint.”

“But... Oh! There are trolls!” Reylie shouted, pointing to a group of trolls gripping their wooden clubs.

Closing the document, Yulie tightened her grip on her sword and charged forward without hesitation, slicing through the trolls in a single fluid motion.

“Oh! There are gargoyles!”

This time, she slew the flock of gargoyles fluttering through the sky with a tempest of ice blades that tore them apart.

After a handful of skirmishes...

“... Are you okay?”

A voice called down from above, and Yulie tilted her head upward to see Epherene, Deculein’s assistant, standing with Ihelm, their hands raised in greeting.

“Yes, I am fine,” Yulie replied.

“You seemed quite busy on your own. Don’t push yourself too hard—we’re here to help.”

Yulie shook her head from side to side, silently indicating that she was fine.

“That fool is too stubborn to listen to reason,” Ihelm snorted.

Yulie narrowed her eyes and tilted her head up, shooting him a sharp glare.

“Come on, you know I’m not wrong. Your stubbornness even led you to accept that engagement with Deculein back then,” Ihelm said, raising an eyebrow.

At those words, both Reylie and Epherene flinched.

“... Don’t bring that up again,” Yulie replied in a quiet voice.

“I always thought your own stubbornness brought this upon yourself. You should have chosen me instead. Not that it matters anymore—what’s done is done,” Ihelm said.

“Ihelm, stop it!” Reylie snapped.

“Hey, Leaf. What’s your take?” Ihelm asked with a smirk, shaking his head.

“... About what?” Epherene replied curtly.

“Deculein and that stubborn knight, of course.”

Yulie pretended to be indifferent, quietly listening to their conversation.

Epherene glanced between Ihelm on top of the wall and Yulie below and said, “... I don’t think Professor Deculein hates her that much.”

“Oh, really? Too bad that Knight Deya hates Deculein enough to last a lifetime.”

Yulie glanced upward once more. Ihelm’s words held undeniable truth—her hatred for Deculein had not waned. The resentment she held toward Deculein, after Veron and Rockfell’s deaths, burned like a quiet flame. One day, she vowed, she would settle that debt in full.

At that moment...

“... Don’t be. You guys might end up regretting it,” Epherene murmured bitterly before quickly slipping away.

“What’s up with her?” Ihelm muttered, clearly confused.

Yulie stared blankly at Epherene as she walked away, her thoughts momentarily lost. However, there was no time to linger on such distractions.

Grrrrraaaah—!

Once again, a horde of gargoyles and trolls advanced, closing in.

The next wave had arrived.

***

Grrrrraaaah—!

Standing by the window of the mansion in Rekordak, I looked toward the source of the distant howls. Beyond the walls, another swarm of trolls emerged, a pattern that would continue to repeat throughout the southern advance. The thought of peaceful sleep or even a brief moment of rest seemed like a luxury out of reach for the time being.

"Speak," I said, taking a sip of wine and addressing the presence behind me without turning around.

The presence I had noticed since the mansion's entrance clearly had no intention of hiding. When I turned, my eyes settled on a figure cloaked in shadows, wearing a fox mask.

“And who might you be?” I inquired.

— You don’t need to know.

The woman answered in sign language.

A woman using sign language— that was all the clue I needed to guess who she might be.

"Are you of the same kind as those whom I have confined outside?"

The woman nodded.

"Are you one of them?"

— No. We are not one of them. We have come to punish them in your stead.

"Are you not the same Scarletborn as they are?"

— They cooperate with the Altar, while we work independently with it. We may all be Scarletborn, but we are far from the same.

A scoff slipped from my lips. While it wasn’t wrong to say that not all Scarletborn are the same, the words seemed like a convenient excuse.

"What is it that you want? Are you asking me to release them?"

— The Altar must have known that Jackal and the other Scarletborn were meant to fail this mission.

“Are you implying this is a ploy to sow discord?”

— That is correct. If you report today’s incident to the Imperial Palace, the gas chambers will be activated immediately, and innocent Scarletborn—men, women, and children—will be slaughtered.

“Are you telling me not to report it?”

— ... That is correct.

I nodded and replied, "Very well. I will thoroughly investigate your claim, and if what you said proves true, I won't report it to the Imperial Palace. However, those I have captured will face death at my hands."

— That cannot be let happen.

“Why is that?”

— No matter how much fault they may have caused, they are still our people. If they must die, it will be by our hands, not yours. And it would be wise for you to follow my words.

The words she said struck a nerve, though I kept my composure as I replied, “Is that a threat? Do you understand who you’re speaking to?”

— It’s not a threat. It’s a fair exchange.

“An exchange?”

— That is correct.

The woman snapped her fingers, and a wave of mana rippled through the air, slowly forming into a single image—bound Yeriel came into view.

— Tomorrow, at the same time, in a place where Rekordak’s eyes cannot reach—we will exchange the hostages.

I kept my eyes on the woman, and the anger simmering within me did not consume me. Instead, it honed my focus and sharpened my mind.

The woman then moved her fingers and continued.

— If you refuse this exchange, we will unveil a truth you are unaware of and make it known to the world.

“... A truth of which I am unaware?”

— That is correct.

I crossed my arms, waiting silently.

The woman's eyes swept over me from head to toe before she calmly formed her response into silent words using sign language.

— Your sister Yeriel is not of the Yukline bloodline.

That much, I was already well aware of. However, it was something that could never be revealed to the public. The weight of the Wood Steel resting in my coat seemed to pulse with a quiet, murderous intent, as if mirroring my thoughts.

— And moreover, Yeriel's bloodline...

The moment I unleashed the power of my Wood Steel, intent on ending the woman’s life...

— Belongs to our people. Yeriel is Scarletborn.

For a brief moment, the air in the mansion seemed to hold its breath.