A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 189: Younger Sibling (2)

... A month ago, Elesol visited the Great Elder with her sister in the sweltering heat of the desert winds that enveloped the elder's tent. The leader of the Scarletborn greeted them. The Great Elder’s face, more withered and frail than Elesol remembered, seemed even more so than when she had last seen him.

“Hello,” Ellie said.

— It has been a long time.

Elesol signed with her hands.

“It has been a long time indeed. The children who were once so little have now grown into adults,” the Great Elder said with a gentle smile.

— Now is not the time to reminisce about the past.

“There is no need for haste.”

Elesol narrowed her eyes. The Great Elder's gentle and compassionate nature, once something she admired, now felt like an irritation she could no longer overlook.

— Please, take this.

Elesol handed over the document, its pages detailing a meticulous plan for the assassination of prominent targets, including Deculein, and the liberation of prisoners from the concentration camp.

“... You have prepared thoroughly,” the Great Elder said, his expression growing harder as he began to read the document.

However, his response remained unchanged from the first.

"Child, such actions would only perpetuate a cycle of hatred.”

— Then.

Elesol slammed against the table.

— What are you thinking, Great Elder? Our people stand on the brink of extinction, shrouded in a fog as impenetrable as night and as treacherous as a crumbling cliff.

"Child, what are your thoughts?”

— It is simple. We must resist to the point where the cost of oppressing the people of the Scarletborn far outweighs any benefit gained.

If the Empire sought to oppress the Scarletborn and confiscate their wealth for a gain of one hundred, her plan was to retaliate with harm twice as great. In this way, she aimed to strip their oppression of the Scarletborn of any benefit, reducing it to an act devoid of any merit or value.

"What does the Empire stand to gain by oppressing us? They oppress us without reaping any benefit."

— No, that is not true. They have always sought what is ours. Once, it was our land; now, it is our wealth and talents. That is why mutually assured destruction must be our course of action. When there is nothing left for them to gain and the cost of their actions becomes unbearable, they will tire of their greed.

“To achieve that, we would need to hold on to weapons and strength equal to the Empire’s. Mutually assured destruction, after all, leads only to shared ruin—but do you believe we have the power to bring about their end?”

— Yes, the Scarletborn have the power—the very talent that the people of the continent call the power of demons.

Elesol turned toward Ellie, her eyes clouded with quiet frustration.

— Ellie alone is capable of it—wiping out every bureaucrat in the Imperial Palace.

"And why has she not done so already?"

Bang! Bang, bang, bang!

— Because she refuses to listen to what I say. She only listens to your words, Great Elder.

Elesol slammed her hand onto the table in frustration.

The Great Elder turned silently toward Ellie, who answered with a subtle smile.

"... Ellie, I see that you chose not to kill Deculein," the Great Elder said with a smile.

"Yes, I thought there was no need for it," Ellie replied.

Bang!

Elesol slammed her hand on the table once again.

“Why did you think that?” the Great Elder asked, raising a hand to stop her.

"Because if we kill him, there will be no turning back. I understand Elesol's feelings, but wouldn't killing him also mean playing into the hands of the Altar?"

"... That is correct," the Great Elder replied with a nod. "Elesol, you have achieved much—constructing a vast underground haven, founding a city, and protecting so many of the Scarletborn. However, we must be cautious and avoid acting too radically."

Elesol shaped her hands into a triangle, a quiet sign in the language of gestures that conveyed silence.

"Just as the Gifrein imperial family has wronged the Scarletborn, so too have we wronged them. To untangle the roots of such resentment, forgiveness must flow from both sides. However, the time for that has not yet come."

The Scarletborn had endured generations of discrimination and contempt, disdain and neglect, banishment and oppression—a legacy of sorrow deeply steeped in their history.

However, the crimes and acts of terror committed by the Scarletborn in resistance, the atrocities of certain tribes, and their collusion with the Altar had raised the question of who had wronged whom first, or whose actions bore the greater fault—this uncertainty had evolved into a bitter stalemate.

"The question of whether the chicken or the egg came first is nothing but folly. The answer does not lie in resolving such a question, but in shaping a world where such questions no longer matter—a world where no one feels the need to ask. Yet, this continent continues to take countless lives in pursuit of an answer that was never there to begin with."

Elesol bit her lip and shook her head.

— Yes, I understand. When I was younger, I believed that your wisdom and ideals, Great Elder, would lead us toward a brighter future. But now, there is no other way forward for us.

Elesol slammed her hand on the table once more.

— The Empire does not believe that we have no relation to the Altar. I have already sent them countless letters, begging for diplomacy and negotiations.

The Great Elder remained silent.

— Such is the reality under Empress Sophien. If the gas chambers are activated, our people will die, and I can no longer bear the atrocities of those devils.

A brief silence settled over the room. The Great Elder, who had been staring at Elesol, eventually let a gentle smile curve his lips. Though her heart burned with anguish and fury, painfully bright and heartbreaking, her devotion to her people was undeniable.

"Take this, Elesol. I believe the time has come for you to carry my legacy," the Great Elder said as he handed her the ledger—List of Prosoponyms for the Scarletborn, created with his own mana.

— What use is there for this now?

The Great Elder turned to a particular page in the ledger without uttering a word. Elesol and Ellie both tilted their heads in curiosity.

"Read this."

Their eyes settled on the name in the ledger that the Great Elder had indicated.

Yeriel von Delrun-Yukline

Upon seeing the name, Elesol froze, as if the winding key of a clockwork doll had suddenly stopped. She blinked vacantly for a long moment before turning her head with a creaking motion to look at Ellie.

“... Oh?”

Ellie, too, stood in stunned silence, her mouth slightly open...

***

... Returning to the present, in the rugged mountains of Rekordak, Elesol watched Yeriel, who had stepped out of the carriage, bound in restraints. Walking quietly, Yeriel’s eyes settled on something in the distance. A squirrel flitted through the underbrush, darting nimbly up and down the trees. Then, as its eyes met Yeriel’s, it cautiously inched closer.

Chomp, chomp— Chomp, chomp—

Then, the squirrel began gnawing at the restraints binding Yeriel with its tiny teeth.

Rustle—!

As Elesol stepped forward, the sound of her footsteps through the grass startled the squirrel. It flinched as if to dart away but instead turned to face her, baring its small teeth in a bold attempt at intimidation.

Squeeeak—!

It carried itself like some kind of escort knight, standing protectively before Yeriel, as if sworn to her defense.

Elesol turned toward Yeriel.

— The animals seem to look up to you.

“... Oh, seriously? How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t understand sign language?” Yeriel said.

Elesol picked up her notebook and wrote a sentence.

Deculein seemed to understand it just fine.

"That’s because we have different specialties. To study grimoires from various nations, fluency in multiple languages is essential, so he probably knows them well. As for me, I have a talent for management, economics, and handling people. When I need an interpreter, I hire one—I’ve never had to learn it myself.”

Elesol looked at Yeriel, lost in thought, her mind weighed down by a decision.

Should I tell her the truth or keep it concealed? Deculein did say it wouldn’t matter either way. Since their relationship is strained, perhaps he is trying to abandon Yeriel, or maybe he wants to destroy her with his own hand... Either way, I can only hope that whichever decision I make will help her somehow, Elesol thought.

"But what were you saying just now?" Yeriel asked, breaking the silence.

I said that the animals seem to look up to you.

“Yeah, it’s been like that since I was a child. Why? I can even communicate with them to some degree.”

— That’s a talent entirely separate from magic. Have you ever questioned it?

"What’s there to question? I mean, what’s wrong with that?" Yeriel asked, shrugging. "By the way... Deculein said he isn’t coming, right?"

He is coming.

“What? No, why?!” Yeriel burst out, raising her voice upon hearing that Elesol had negotiated with Deculein.

That reaction was unexpected. Or does their hatred for each other run that deep? Elesol thought.

"What were the terms of the negotiation?" Yeriel asked.

To release the forty Scarletborn held by Deculein in exchange.

“... That’s it?”

Because the relationship between you and Deculein isn't great.

Several other significant agreements had been made, and with the desired outcome secured, Elesol had no intention of revealing the details.

“See? I told you, didn’t I? I’m not worth the trouble,” Yeriel replied, nodding calmly.

Elesol sat on a rock nearby, her eyes lifted to the pale sky. The biting air of winter pressed down around her as if it were slicing through her skin. When she lowered her eyes, it fell on Yeriel, where a group of squirrels had gathered, their small teeth gnawing at the restraints binding her.

Elesol held up her notebook toward Yeriel.

After the hostage exchange is over, you'll have a chance to escape. If not now, then someday, I'll make sure you have the opportunity.

"... What the heck are you talking about? Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind?"

Elesol breathed out a quiet sigh.

If the truth about Yeriel being Scarletborn were to surface, Deculein and the Yukline family’s reputation would be severely damaged, and their authority in the capital would be threatened. For the Scarletborn, this would be our opportunity—a chance to weaken Yukline’s influence while slowing, or even stopping, our oppression, Elesol thought.

... The terms I negotiated with Deculein were not just about releasing you.

Of course, Deculein will do everything to prevent that from happening. It’s not hard to imagine what choice he will make. After all, without evidence, there would be no way to prove whether Yeriel is Scarletborn.

"What is it, then?" Yeriel asked.

The easiest way to erase evidence is through death. Yeriel might end up being killed by Deculein.

Elesol gilded her fountain pen across the page, each deliberate stroke forming words into a sentence.

To withhold any declaration that you, Yeriel, are of our bloodline.

For a moment, Yeriel's expression stiffened, though it was clear she didn’t fully understand the meaning. Between them, a brittle silence stretched thin, and the cold mountain breeze coiled like an invisible thread.

Elesol then pulled back the notebook, her pen tracing the final line as she added a few more words to the page.

Yeriel, you are not a Yukline. You are Scarletborn—one of our people.

***

At noon, in the depths of the Rekordak mountain range, I dug a grave with a shovel.

"Please, h-have mercy! Professor, I beg you! I was wrong—I’ve made a t-terrible mistake! Please... Professor!"

The grave wasn’t for bodies, at least not yet—it was meant to bury Jacken and these men alive.

"Um, boss... isn’t this a bit too much?" Louina asked cautiously, her hesitation clear as she tried to dissuade me.

"Did you step into my Rekordak thinking you could escape the price of your deeds?" I replied, my eyes fixed on those fated to be buried, brushing her words off completely.

"No, please, Professor! I was wrong! I really made a t-terrible mistake! Professor...!"

By the time their screams of desperation echoed through the air, the pit was complete. With a mere flick of my fingers, the steel wires coiling around them rose under the invisible grip of my Telekinesis.

"Ah—ahhh—aaahh!"

"Aagh!"

“Please! Aghhh!”

I sent all forty of them tumbling into the pit. Louina lowered her head, unable to stomach the sight, while Ephrine had slipped away long before the first screams began.

“... Is it acceptable to treat prisoners in this manner?” Ihelm asked.

“They’re not prisoners,” I replied. “They’re Scarletborn.”

“Hmm... whatever it is, your former fiancée is sure to despise this. It might even make the headlines—something dramatic, like The Grim Reaper Reborn: Apostle of Live Burial, or something along those lines.”

Without responding to him, I guided the Wood Steel to scoop the earth, letting heavy clumps of soil tumble into the pit, burying the men below.

Shunk—

Shunk—

Shunk—

With each shovelful of earth that covered the grave, their anguished screams and desperate pleas rose in crescendo.

“No, no! Stop! Please—Professor! I’m begging you!”

“We made a terrible mistake! We were wrong, really! Please, it was all Jacken’s idea, and he made us—”

“What the hell are you all talking about? Weren’t you the ones who said you were ready to die for the cause?!”

“What the fuck?! That wasn’t me!”

Of course, I had no intention of ending their lives this way—it was not in my nature. The grave wasn’t dug for murder, but designed as a silent and undetectable method of exchanging hostages. Any other form of humane execution would be left to Elesol.

"Please, Mmpf! Mmp-mmpf!"

Shunk— Shunk— Shunk—

As clumps of dirt filled their mouths, their muffled cries dissolved into choking gasps, choked by the weight of fear. I clicked my tongue at the repulsive sight, a scene that stirred deep disgust within me.

“Please, please... please...”

Eventually, their pleas faded into silence, and as the grave was now tightly packed with earth, I turned toward the others.

“... Guh,” Louina murmured, covering her mouth with both hands.

Ihelm rubbed the back of his neck, while Delic and the Imperial knights stood frozen in stunned silence, their disbelief evident in their wide eyes and parted lips, each unable to conceal their shock.

"You may go on ahead. I will remain here to ensure that they are dead," I said.

"Pardon? Oh, yes. Understood... Everyone! What are you waiting for? Let's move! Now!"

The knights and others turned around, retracing their steps the way they had come. I waited in silence, and before long, a faint ember flared to life on a distant peak—a quiet signal from Elesol.

***

Yeriel, you are not a Yukline. You are Scarletborn—one of our people and the proof lies in your...

In the empty mountain, where the fallen leaves had withered under the grip of the biting cold, Yeriel stared blankly at the ground, her head dropped and hanging low, swaying like a reed caught in the cold wind, while her unbound legs faltered with each weak step.

"Ah..." Yeriel whispered, a faint, broken sound slipping past her lips like a thread.

Should I run away, or just kill myself here? Yeriel thought.

Yeriel raised her eyes to the tree branch above; it seemed strong enough to hold a noose and bear her weight.

At that moment...

Crunch—

Footsteps rustled through the fallen leaves, followed by a voice—one that Yeriel desperately wished to deny, and that made her heart ache to its core.

“Yeriel.”

Yeriel snapped up and looked in that direction, only to see the last person she wanted to face—Deculein—and a wave of nausea twisted deep within her stomach.

“You have come a long way,” Deculein said.

Yeriel trembled at his words, and not far from her, Deculein stood at the base of the slope, taking a single step toward her.

“... Stop!” Yeriel shouted, throwing her arm out as if to hold him back.

“Why is that?” Deculein asked, as unbothered as ever.

“You... you know why.”

“Do I?”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced herself to hold them back.

Yeriel could not read what Deculein was thinking. He had already accepted the truth that she was neither his blood nor his real sister, but the thought that the sister he had accepted turned out to be one of the Scarletborn—the enemies he despised above all—was something Yeriel couldn’t imagine how he would react if it were true, a thought that caused her extreme distress.

“Don’t get any closer!” Yeriel cried.

"Do not speak to me in a commanding manner," Deculein replied.

“... Don’t get any closer! ... Please.”

“No.”

"Oh, come on!" Yeriel shouted, her frustration bursting out in the yell.

In an instant, Deculein took a bold step forward. Startled, Yeriel turned to run, but his hand gripped the back of her neck before she could take more than a step.

“... Ow!”

Tears welled in Yeriel’s eyes as she looked up at Deculein, and his face was as it always had been—unchanging and unreadable.

“... Let me go. I know everything,” Yeriel murmured, her teeth clenched tightly.

“What do you know?”

You know everything, yet why are you acting as if you don’t? Yeriel thought, staring at Deculein with bitterness.

"That I’m not your sister. That I never really was. I’m not,” Yeriel said.

Deculein remained silent.

“But that, I get it... I get it, really. But—”

"Yeriel," Deculein interrupted, pressing her into a chair that seemed to appear from nowhere. "How pathetic. Such things hold no significance."

“What...?”

Deculein looked directly at Yeriel, and as the weight of it pressed heavily on her, she turned her head aside, her eyes refusing to meet his.

“Listen carefully to what I say,” Deculein said.

“... I don’t want to hear it,” Yeriel replied.

“Listen, and do not run away.”

Yeriel could not tell what thoughts were running through his mind or what emotions stirred within him—betrayal, anger, disgust, or perhaps even the shadow of murderous intent. Of course, she couldn’t know—she had never glimpsed the depths of his heart.

"I have never, not for a single moment,” Deculein continued.

Even now, a fragment of doubt remained in Yeriel’s heart.

“Thought of you as anything but my sister."

Yeriel looked at Deculein as he spoke those words.

“It does not matter what blood flows through your veins.”

Deculein’s voice remained as steady as ever as he continued.

“And it does not matter how you look the way you do.”

Though Yeriel knew Deculein would never lie, doubt clung to her heart, unwilling to fade.

“You are still Yeriel... and you are still my sister,” Deculein concluded.

“What—”

Yeriel’s body betrayed her completely, moving uncontrollably, her lips trembling as if consumed by madness, her heart pounding violently, and her throat constricting until breathing became nearly impossible.

This is annoying... Yeriel thought.

“So listen to me,” Deculein said.

Yeriel’s throat tightened, rendering her unable to speak a single word. Shrouded in the haze of her tears—or whatever it was—Deculein appeared as a blur, clouding her vision, her arms and legs trembling uncontrollably, while her head swam with dizziness, as if struck by a sudden wave of anemia.

Her body had long since slipped beyond her control, moving on its own.

"Even if the day comes when Yukline turns its back on you," Deculein continued.

However, her ears stayed sharply tuned, capturing every word of his voice—cold as ever, clear and cutting like frost—absorbing each syllable without missing a single one.

"I will not turn my back on you."