A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 230: To Everyday Life (2)

But in this age, there was no God. The One who had once listened to the voices of His followers, who had watched over their lives and mourned their deaths—that God was no more.

“I have seen your faith.”

God was dead. It was the followers who had killed Him, and the memory of that final tragedy remained vivid in His mind. The weight of that betrayal—grief knotted with fury—stuck to His heart like dried blood that refused to wash away.

“Commit yourselves to the doctrine, and let your hearts be rooted in the Word,” continued God.

Therefore, this continent was a remote land built by heretics and god-slayers—marked from the very beginning as a symbol of original sin.

— Yes, O Lord. I shall now take my leave.

The follower’s voice faded, and silence settled like mist. Once a servant of God, he turned back to the lake. Reflected upon its surface was the image of the Imperial Palace—the beating heart of the continent.

“...The faith of the beginning still rests within me,” He muttered, reaching through the ashes smoldering in his chest. “It is time to breathe it forth once more, and let devotion rise again.”

But the fallen god would not return, and there was no one left to carry out His teachings, to preserve them, or to stand in His place. And so, he became what no one else could—he became God.

“The Mortal Realm shall once more be steeped in divinity. I shall carry forth Your will and bear it in full...”

The vow of a faithful shepherd spread outward, echoing like ripples across still water.

***

Meanwhile, within the round table chamber of the Imperial Knights’ Order...

“Of late, dungeons filled with demonic energy have been appearing with growing frequency.”

Within the round table chamber of the Imperial Palace, the hall buzzed with voices, as knights gathered in the middle of discussions. It was the season when universities reopened their gates, and not only scholars but the Knights’ Order and the Mage Tower alike found themselves busy—setting goals and duties for the turning of the quarter.

“Therefore, the Imperial Knights’ Order will advance with three primary directives this quarter,” said Gawain.

The one leading today’s session of the Imperial Knights’ Order was Gawain—renowned not only for his exceptional skill but also for his outstanding appearance, which often placed him before the public eye as the face of the Order, a familiar figure in lectures, broadcasts, and the press. Favored most by Deputy Knight Isaac, he now guided the meeting with practiced command.

“First, the clearing of dungeons,” Gawain continued, gesturing his hand through the air.

Soon, the map of the Empire hovered, its surface shimmering with light. Among its many marks, one point began to shine brighter than the rest.

"Across the borders of the Empire—particularly in the slums—twenty-three locations have been confirmed, with an additional five estimated within the interior. Our foremost objective is to eliminate all active dungeons before the end of the quarter."

There was no opposition. Eliminating dungeons was one of the Knights' Order’s most fundamental duties, and the rewards that followed were far from meager.

“Second, the establishment of advanced communications beyond the capital.”

Snap—

With a snap of his fingers, Gawain moved the map, and its glowing image swept toward a new region.

“Our first priority is Rekordak—a territory of strategic value, with 51% held by House Yukline. It stands as a fitting base for the coming expedition into the Land of Destruction. Therefore—”

“Expedition into the Land of Destruction?”

It was the objection he had expected, so Gawain turned toward the voice.

“The Empire would actually commit to an expedition into the Land of Destruction? For what purpose—wasting strength on such a forgotten waste?” asked Valerian, a member of one of the many factions within the Knights' Order.

Valerian, who placed the safety of the Empire’s people and the honor of the Knights’ Order above all else, held little favor for the expedition into the Land of Destruction.

“The expedition into the Land of Destruction has yet to be confirmed. Even if the campaign is abandoned, the establishment of advanced communication remains essential,” Gawain said.

“Hmph. But why Rekordak, of all places? Deya—was she not a corrupted knight? Disgraced and banished from the Imperial Knights’ Order, and yet you would place this responsibility in her hands?”

Then, with a hardened expression, Gawain shook his head and replied, “Knight Deya’s skill is well established—her reputation speaks for itself. Furthermore—”

“Skill, you say? I’ve seen that woman spar—she flitted about like a gnat.”

I suspect Valerian’s bitterness comes from bruised pride—one of his subordinates must have lost to Yulie in a spar. After all, he is the proud founder of the so-called Valerian School, known for raising hundreds under his banner, Gawain thought.

However, Gawain chose not to speak on it.

“Yes... but Rekordak remains—”

“Rekordak belongs more properly to House Yukline than to Knight Deya,” interrupted Delic, who had remained silent, twirling his mustache, as his eyes scanned the round table.

Then Delic added, “House Yukline holds fifty-one percent of its claim. That makes Rekordak a critical stronghold. Clearly, that alone justifies its place as a candidate for direct advanced communication with the capital—perhaps even a hotline to Her Majesty the Empress. Wouldn’t you agree?”

No one stepped forward to challenge Delic’s words—not even the stubborn Valerian, who merely pressed his lips together and said nothing. The Imperial Knights’ Order prided itself on merit above all, but even in such circles, influence could never be entirely ignored.

“Then next, Hacecaine would be the most fitting candidate.”

By one turn of fortune or another, Delic had come under the protection of House Yukline and now stood as the true power within the Imperial Knights’ Order.

“I would first propose establishing a direct hotline with both Hadecaine and Rekordak,” Delic concluded.

Delic had long been listed among the candidates for deputy knight, but no one within the Knights’ Order had ever really considered him a serious contender as his presence had always been unremarkable—neither dismissed nor expected.

However, now within both the Imperial Palace and the Order, his voice carried weight equal to Isaac’s, if not more. Aware of his rising influence, Delic had begun to involve himself more openly in the Order’s internal politics.

“... Yes, Knight Delic. Let’s put this matter on hold for now. The third and final directive concerns the assimilation of the Voice,” Gawain said.

The assimilation of the Voice had become a growing affliction, eating away at the minds of the people. It was the very reason whispered conversations and quiet rumors had all but disappeared across the continent.

“This has been officially recognized by House Yukline as a demonic phenomenon tied to the assimilation of the Voice. For this matter, we are planning to request it from him, Deculein of the Yukline family—”

“Ahem,” Delic interrupted.

Gawain turned to him, a quiet question in his eyes.

“Is Professor Deculein a personal friend of yours?”

Gawain remained silent.

“This is not the time to speak thoughtlessly, especially with the Voice hiding in every shadow. Have you forgotten the basics of etiquette? Choose your words more carefully,” Delic added, leaning back in his chair with confidence.

Delic’s subordinate knights nodded, their expressions reflecting the pride of their commander.

“... Yes, Knight Delic. The request will be sent to Professor Deculein of House Yukline,” Gawain continued. “House Yukline is, after all, a house of long tradition—renowned for their expertise in demon hunting.”

“Good. Let me handle the third directive—no need for concern,” Delic said, as if granting a favor, and stood up with a knock of his hand against the round table, clearing his throat. “Well then, I have pressing matters to attend to. The rest of you may continue the meeting."

Just two months ago, Delic and his subordinate knights had been a minor faction of barely ten. Now, they had grown to thirty, and together, they departed the round table chamber in a single procession. The remaining knights watched them in silence, their words momentarily forgotten.

"... Perhaps I should’ve gone to the Rekordak front myself,” muttered one of the knights remaining.

Soon after Delic's departure, quiet murmurs spread through the round table chamber—less discussion than suppressed complaint, lingering like a collective sigh. It was all driven by the rumor that Delic had established a bond with Deculein during his time in Rekordak, and through it, secured the title of escort knight to Her Majesty the Empress.

“Tch...” murmured Isaac, Deputy Knight of the Imperial Knights’ Order, pressing his fingers to his temple.

For the Deputy Knight, nothing proved more troubling than knights who pledged their swords not to the order, but to the banners of noble houses.

"Gawain," Isaac said. "Just continue the meeting."

“Yes, Deputy Knight Isaac. And while still in its prototype stage, this device enables direct communication with Rekordak,” Gawain continued, placing the crystal orb radio on the round table.

Crackle— Crackle—

As the dial settled on a certain frequency, a clear voice came through the crystal orb.

— This is Knight Deya of Rekordak. Do you hear me...?

***

On the 77th floor of the Mage Tower, the Head Professor’s office...

“Naturally. No need to ask. The fate of eliminating the Voice has always belonged to Yukline,” I said, nodding once.

"Yes, I appreciate it, Professor. And this—this is the Imperial Palace’s hotline. A specially crafted radio transceiver, or perhaps a secure transmitter. Either way, it serves its purpose," Delic replied with a smile, setting the device down on the desk.

“Is that so?”

“Her Majesty the Empress instructed that it be delivered to you personally. With this device, you may reach Her Majesty at any time. By adjusting the frequency here...”

Crackle— Crackle—

— Yes, sir. At present, Rekordak stands strong. It continues to serve its purpose as a stronghold, and the villages across the Northern Region are gradually growing in strength and order.

The voice belonged to Yulie, speaking from the Imperial Knights’ meeting.

“As you can see, this allows you to monitor all communication lines linked to the capital. Any suspicious activity you detect will be recorded—should immediate judgment be necessary,” Delic said.

“And Her Majesty—how is she faring?” I inquired.

“Yes, Professor. Her Majesty is resting in her chambers at the moment.”

“Then see yourself back, before Her Majesty rises.”

“Yes, sir!” Delic replied, offering a formal salute before turning on his heel and stepping out.

As silence settled once more over the office, I reached for the sheet Epherene had left—names for the magic tournament.

“Epherene, Julia, Drent... Maho,” I muttered.

The semester had barely begun—two days at most—yet somehow, Maho, a top-tier named character, had already grown close to them. It wasn’t unwelcome. Maho was one of the few who required careful handling, and if she stayed close to Epherene, she might become easier to manage.

... Whoooosh.

At that moment, a strange sensation crept across my skin, and I caught the ghost of waves whispering in my ear.

“... So, it’s time again.”

It was the Voice calling. Not yet—but soon, I would be drawn into the World of the Voice. At that quiet signal, I paused to assess my condition.

“Hmm.”

My command over grade 3 mana quality had reached its peak—refined to the finest edge, its flow through my veins perfectly controlled. A full comprehension of the Snowflower Stone was close at hand.

And though the assimilation of the Voice deepened with each passing day, soon enough it would rise to devour the world. I had more than enough power to meet that moment head-on.

— Professor.

At that moment, the voice of the Empress echoed through the radio.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Your voice comes through clearly.” I replied.

Sophien offered a quiet chuckle.

“Is there anything further Your Majesty wishes to announce?”

— ... Indeed. Today, I will be announcing the decree regarding the expedition into the Land of Destruction and the Scarletborn.

“Scarletborn, Your Majesty?”

— We cannot let the Altar bastards walk free after what they’ve done. You want that as much as I do, do you not?

I did not yet know the shape Sophien’s decree would take—only that, whatever form it took, its purpose would be the same, which was to tighten the noose around the Scarletborn’s throat with greater precision and far less mercy.

“Your Majesty.”

— ... Hmm? What’s that tone? I expected you’d be pleased. You loathe the Scarletborn too, do you not?

“Not all Scarletborn may have conspired with the Altar, Your Majesty.”

Sophien said nothing, letting the silence speak for her.

“I ask only that you consider this,” I added, the words enough to press against the current of history.

***

... Bang!

In the Imperial Palace, Sophien slammed down the radio, and the line to Deculein naturally fell silent.

“Your Majesty, is there a concern?” Ahan asked, startled, turning from the table she had been quietly arranging.

“... He defended the Scarletborn. No—he asked me to consider them,” Sophien replied.

Sophien’s anger at the thought was almost unexplained—and even to Ahan, it made little sense.

Sophien, Her Majesty—so often lethargic and mischievous—yet when it comes to the Scarletborn, her judgment cuts through the air like a sharpened arrow, Ahan thought.

“... Your Majesty,” Ahan said, bowing with quiet hesitation.

“What is it?”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. It’s only a small curiosity of mine, nothing more.”

“... You’re asking why I loathe the Scarletborn?” the Empress replied, snapping her eyes toward her.

“... Yes, Your Majesty. I won’t breathe a word to anyone. N-No, forgive me... it was foolish of me to even wonder,” Ahan replied, bowing her head.

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“No need for that. After all, the only one you’d ever speak to is that Professor,” Sophien replied, brushing back her hair as she looked over Ahan’s hunched back, reached for the long pipe she’d abandoned in the corner, and sparked it to life. “I’ll tell you, then. Why I loathe the ones they call Scarletborn...”

***

On a spring afternoon at the heart of the season, Epherene walked the campus grounds with her teammates. The world felt quiet and whole—students passed by in cheerful groups, and the breeze carried a refreshing touch.

“Alright, let’s build around the three categories,” Epherene said. “We should aim for at least medium grand magic.”

As Epherene sat with Drent, Julia, and Maho, discussing the spells they would perform in the magic tournament...

“Oh? Leaf, look—it’s Knight Delic,” Drent said, pointing as he caught sight of the knight.

With his back straight and pride in every step, Knight Delic walked down the campus road, his subordinates trailing behind like a noble tail. Then, for a single second, his eyes met Epherene’s.

“Oh! You’re the Professor’s protégé, aren’t you?” Delic said, his expression softening as he raised a hand in a friendly wave.

“Oh... hello,” Epherene said, returning the wave before quickly looking away.

“Whoa, Ephie—are you close with Knight Delic or something?” Julia asked, watching with a look of curiosity.

“Hmm? We used to be, I guess... I’m not sure anymore. Why? Do you know Knight Delic?”

“Of course I do—he’s the Empress’s escort knight. And me? I’m about to step into journalism, you know.”

“Journalism? You, Julia?” Epherene said, blinking in surprise at her sudden declaration.

“Yeah. A mage journalist—it’s not exactly common, but it sounds fun. So I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Wow... I like it. So what, your first article’s going to be on Flower of the Pig? Roahawk, Roahawk.”

“That’s so cool—absolutely amazing, Miss Julia!” Maho said, beaming as she nodded along.

To be honest, Princess Maho gets excited over just about everything—shouting with joy like it’s the best thing in the world. At first, I honestly thought she was a bit much, Epherene thought.

“Well then, Princess Maho—should we go see our supervising Professor now?

“Yes, yes! I’d love that! I really want to see Professor Deculein—really, really want to!” Maho said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Epherene gave a bitter smile. Having Deculein as their supervisor would be difficult—no, more than difficult.

However, Epherene tightened her fist and said, “Alright. Follow me. This time, I’m ready.”

... However, Epherene’s confidence lasted no more than five minutes. To be exact, it faded the moment Deculein skimmed through their magic spell outline—in just under three.

“There are numerous flaws throughout—this section in particular,” Deculein said.

The first flaw, noted.

“This section.”

The second flaw, noted.

“And this section.”

The third flaw, fourth flaw, fifth flaw, sixth flaw, seventh flaw, eighth flaw—noted...

“Revise it—and bring it to me again,” Deculein concluded.

Thirteen flaws—each a flaw in the spell Epherene and her team had spent three full days constructing—exposed by Deculein in less than three minutes.

However...

“... What if we set the flaws aside?” Epherene asked hesitantly. “No one gets it perfect on the first try, after all...”

Epherene muttered the words, then raised her eyes to meet Deculein’s.

Professor gave a quiet nod, touched with something just short of a smirk and said, “Strictly speaking, the flaws cannot be ignored. But if I were to set them aside and assess the idea alone...”

Critique was critique—but even so, Epherene found her eyes drawn to Deculein’s lips, imagining the words he left unsaid.

“It is not bad.”

“It is not bad... It is not bad... It is not bad...”

It echoed three times—almost unreal. Perhaps... it was the first compliment she had ever received from him.

Wait, was it a compliment? Epherene thought.

However, at those simple words—not bad—Epherene felt light enough to float.

“Wooooaaaaaaaaaaaah—!”