A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 261: Dance with Empress (4)

Cling—! Cling, clang—!

Through the chorus of clashing blades, Sophien walked the corridor, her eyes locked on the back of the man who led her fearlessly through the old mansion. As Empress, it might have been the first time she had ever spent so long watching someone’s back—until now.

“… You’re the Professor from the mirror?” Sophien asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied.

Sophien’s memories replayed, taking her back to that endless cycle of death and suffering under poisoning—years she had witnessed in their entirety through the Demon’s Mirror, right up to the moment the Professor met his final end.

“Are you saying the timeline has been divided?”

“I cannot say with certainty, Your Majesty. But I am not a soul—I am memory and mind,” Deculein replied.

Deculein from the mirror appeared as composed as ever, his tone resolute yet polite as he addressed the Empress.

“The mental strength that once delayed my death remained in the afterlife, enduring even Your Majesty’s regression. It was not the outcome I intended, but perhaps I remain because of Your Majesty’s wish.”

“A wish…? Then answer me this—where is Deculein now?” Sophien asked.

“Most likely, he is conversing with the ghosts of the afterlife. Even here, in this old mansion, there are still a few whose minds remain noble—souls deserving of respect. Iggyris is one such,” Deculein replied.

“… Was it you, Deculein, who placed your signature on the bulletin board for participation?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I imagine Deculein must have seen his own signature on the bulletin board, the signature of participation—and in that moment, realized the existence of his other self, Sophien thought.

“Your Majesty, I ask that you remain here until the sun rises,” Deculein said, leading the Empress into a cramped room—the sort of place not meant for royalty, but for the comings and goings of the Imperial Palace’s lowest servants, such as gardeners and attendants.

“This place lies on the boundary between the afterlife and the living world—a small fracture—one I detected with my Sharp Eyesight. When the sun rises, leave through that door. An eclipse is coming, and you must leave before it begins,” Deculein added, gesturing to a small back door in the corner.

“And what of you?” Sophien asked, meeting his eyes.

Deculein remained silent.

“What is it that you intend to do?”

Deculein stood in silence before the Empress, in the same form Sophien remembered from her memories.

“I have had much to speak of with you,” Sophien continued.

The Professor from the mirror—who had remained by her side through every death, only to disappear the moment she conquered death itself.

“Like an unseen companion, a man who has walked beside my memories for so long.”

Sophien’s voice softened, but Deculein’s face remained unchanged—the perfect image of the Empress’s royal subject.

“Do you know?”

When Sophien read through the Records of the Imperial Palace and came upon a mention of the old mansion, the first thought that came to her was of the Professor. She couldn’t help but wonder if some fragment of him might remain in this place—this afterlife—and found herself hoping it did.

“There are more memories I shared with you by my side than there are without.”

Through more than a hundred years of poisoning and the years spent with Deculein, the Instructor Mage, those two memories had never connected for him. But for Sophien, they were inseparable—a single thread woven through the ennui of her daily life and the lethargy clouding her mind.

“But the Deculein of today remembers none of those days.”

Sophien pretended not to care, forcing herself to mask her indifference as she pushed deeper into the comforting numbness of ennui.

However, no matter how hard she tried, the wound in her heart refused to heal.

“All of it was as bitter and ugly as one might expect,” Sophien concluded.

“Your Majesty,” Deculein called.

Without a word, Sophien raised her eyes to Deculein.

“I am Deculein, and so is he. Soon enough, those memories will come back to him. But may I ask, Your Majesty, why choose such a place for this event?”

“… Tch.”

Because Deculein’s words sounded misinterpreted to her, Sophien’s brow twisted in response.

“Do you mean to tell me that, even in such a state, you’re concerned about Yulie?” Sophien said.

“… No, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied, giving a firm shake of his head.

There was no smile on Deculein now; he looked exactly the same as when he stood before the dying Sophien, with his impeccable, almost overly formal manners and his polished tone, which were just the same.

“It is you whom I am concerned for, Your Majesty.”

A crease formed on Sophien’s regal features.

“Just as I alone hold Your Majesty’s memories in their entirety, just as you are the only one who remembers me entirely.”

“… What is that?”

With her heart strangely fluttering and her chest tightening in an odd warmth, Sophien found herself scratching her collarbone.

“Your Majesty is precious—to me, the Professor from the mirror, to the one who lives in the world, and to the world itself. Perhaps that is the reason I remain…” Deculein continued.

***

“… Alright, Professor. I will step away from this,” the former Empress said.

The space, once stained with blood, seemed almost ordinary now, and I felt the former Empress’s murderous intent slowly fade away.

“You hold the imperial family in the highest respect. I will not become a shame to that name, not even in death. If you choose to serve Sophien, I will not stand in your way,” the former Empress continued, her smile tinged with bitterness as she sipped her tea.

Somewhere inside me, there had always been a fundamental respect for the imperial family—an unquestioning deference born of knowing exactly where they stood at the summit of the hierarchy.

“However, remember this much—Sophien will bring calamity to this world. You may well come to regret it in time.”

The former Empress’s words clicked together in my mind like the final puzzle pieces snapping into place, and I felt I understood the true motive behind Freyden’s poisoning of Sophien—something that had never been revealed in the scenario of the game.

“And there is another who is waiting for you,” the former Empress said.

“Is it Decalane?” I asked.

“No,” the former Empress replied, shaking her head. “Iggyris—he says there’s much he would like to speak to you about.”

Iggyris von Creyle-Freyden was the former head of the Freyden family, father to Yulie, Zeit, and Josephine—a lord of legendary stature who raised three children of exceptional talent.

“Iggyris says there’s little he expects of you now, as he is someone who has watched over you here for a very long time.”

Creeeeeak—

As I heard the door behind me creak open, I turned to look.

“Well then, I will leave the two of you to your conversation. It is time for me to take my leave. Farewell, Professor. And Sophien, take good care of that monster,” the former Empress concluded.

The former Empress faded away like mist, and Iggyris stepped forward without a sound, staring at me in silence for what felt like forever before, without a word, extending his hand—offering a silent handshake.

***

Booooooooooom—!

The sudden battle that had erupted in the square of the old mansion was still raging.

Boom—! Cling—!

The clang of knights’ swords rang out as they collided with the Altar’s blade, bursts of mana and sword aura exploding in flashes of light. Shards of broken swords skittered across the square, cutting deep into the stone.

Adrienne’s pinpoint destruction spell tore into the Altar’s body, ripping flesh and organs apart, scattering them through the air, yet despite the overwhelming violence, the battle felt strangely off—unnerving in a way no one could quite explain.

Swooooosh—!

Even when their throats were cut by the sword, their lower bodies severed, or their entire forms shredded by destruction spells, they did not die, and it wasn’t just the enemy—Adrienne’s allies were the same.

“What is—”

A soldier of the Altar advanced, clutching his own severed head in one hand, while nearby, a hulking monster swung a torn face like a mace. The sight was as grotesque as it was unreal, with the battlefield twisting further into a nightmare.

As Yulie stared at the madness of the scene before her…

— Once the sun sets, an old mansion becomes no different from the afterlife. When the living die, they walk as one of the dead until the body decays and crumbles to dust.

A deep voice cut through the chaos, describing the nightmare unraveling around them, and at the familiar tone, her eyes flew wide as she spun around.

— Hold on until the sun rises. I will help you through it.

There, in the empty air where the voice had come from, a shimmering phantom took shape, its outline faint and blurred. Yulie recognized that silhouette—she remembered it as clearly as if no time had passed at all.

“Lord Iggyris?” Yulie muttered.

— … Indeed.

Iggyris—the former head of Freyden and the father of Yulie—whom, even in his final moments, she could not dare to call him Father.

“Ah…”

Yulie’s hand trembled around the hilt of her sword, a pain lancing through her chest as if she had been stabbed, and for a breathless moment, she could not move.

“Lord Iggyris, how could you be here—”

“Yulie, stand back,” Deculein said.

Yulie moved toward her father until steel slashed through the space between them from somewhere unseen, stopping her in her tracks.

“… Do not step any closer.”

Deculein glared between Yulie and Iggyris as he activated the power of the Snowflower Stone, frozen steel cutting between them like an impenetrable fence, separating soul and human on opposite sides.

— Professor, have you still not given up?

Iggyris said, his voice tinged with a sigh.

“Sir Iggyris, the warning stands for you as well. If you step any closer to Yulie, I will kill you,” Deculein said, his voice biting.

— How? How does one kill a man who is already dead?

Iggyris asked with a sneer.

At that moment, mana gathered into Deculein’s hand, and a brilliant halo of light flared to life, chasing away the darkness as an artificial sun’s glow flooded everything in its searing light.

“Iggyris, you are nothing more than a spirit—one that will burn to ash in the sun. I suggest you not overreach.”

Iggyris made a rumbling sound in his throat, saying nothing.

“Stop it, Professor Deculein,” Yulie said, stepping in to block him and giving her sword a light swing, sending a chill racing out and freezing the artificial sun.

“… Yulie,” Deculein said, his brow furrowing as he dismissively stared at her, then tipped his chin. “Move aside. This is for your own sake.”

“Hah.”

Without meaning to, a bitter laugh escaped Yulie’s lips.

“You say it’s for my sake, but how many lives have you taken under that excuse?” Yulie asked, her head falling, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Deculeun remained silent.

“How many more innocent people… will you,” Yulie muttered, her voice tight with anger.

Deculein said nothing, not even sparing Yulie a glance.

“That’s enough, Sir Iggyris,” Deculein said.

— I’ve already told you, Deculein—I cannot grant your request.

“… That is a foolish choice to make,” Deculein replied, glaring at Iggyris’s spirit, his anger barely restrained.

“Was there any conversation between you?” Yulie asked, curious.

Deculeun remained silent.

— Very well, Professor. Then… Yulie.

Iggyris sighed and turned his eyes back to Yulie. To her, his body was nothing more than a hazy wisp of smoke—but the weight of his eyes pressed against her, and she felt it as clearly as ever.

— I leave the choice to you.

“… A choice?” Yulie muttered.

— Yulie, if your hatred for Professor Deculein runs so deep that you would see him dead…

Iggyris glanced back at Deculein, then stepped forward, closing the distance by a single step toward Yulie.

— Come to me.

“This is your final warning.”

Iggyris’s voice and Deculein’s words overlapped.

— Otherwise, go to the Professor, not to me.

Whooooooosh…

With the rush of wind sweeping in, Iggyris’s soul scattered and disappeared into the unknown. Yulie lowered her eyes to her map and found his trace—a single mark pointing to a specific location.

If it’s the Professor that I despise, then this is where I’m meant to come to find him, Yulie thought.

“Yulie.”

As Yulie was lost in thought, Deculein’s voice slipped into her mind, and without realizing it, she looked up at him, her eyes widening. In Deculein’s eyes, she caught a flicker of sorrow—and something else, a shadow of emotion she couldn’t name.

“Do not go,” Deculein said.

Deculein’s voice carried a sorrow that was impossible to ignore.

“Please don’t let yourself appear this way. It fits you far better to stand firm like an oak tree,” Yulie said, shaking her head.

“If you go to Iggyris, you will die.”

As Deculein said she would die, Yulie lowered her eyes to the map clutched in her hands.

Of course, Deculein was a despicable villain—or at least, that was how Yulie saw him.

However, for reasons she couldn’t explain, his words didn’t feel like a lie this time.

“Professor.”

Perhaps it was because Yulie knew, deep down, that Iggyris didn’t love her—never had, not even for a passing moment.

“I have but one question.”

Even with everything she knew, Yulie slid the map into her inner pocket.

“As I am now, do I look like someone who’s still alive?”

Suffocating silence pressed down as Deculein looked at Yulie without saying a word.

“No, I am not,” Yulie continued, clenching her teeth, her breath seething through them. “The day you betrayed me—no, even before that—I had already died.”

“…Yulie, even if you believe you have already died,” Deculein said, sighing as his head lowered before raising again.

Yulie—a knight stripped of her dreams, her heart wounded by Deculein’s hand, drowning in his love and obsession, a woman torn between death and rebirth, forever caught in the pull of both.

“I want you to remain alive.”

At Deculein’s words, Yulie gave no reply and turned, driving her sword back over her shoulder.

Slash—!

Yulie’s sword, charged with freezing mana, drove clean through the Altar soldier’s heart, freezing him solid on the spot, before she advanced onto the battlefield without a word—a refusal in action, speaking for Yulie herself.

***

Meanwhile, the Altar had taken over the old mansion, first locking down the gate and sweeping the grounds on patrol. After dispatching an advance unit, they began to tighten their hold—detaining any nobles or officials attempting to flee and killing them if necessary.

“Hey, Sirio.”

“Nooo! Lemme go! Lemme go! Let me gooo!”

“What should we do with this one?”

At that moment, a towering knight stepped forward, gripping a small child like a rag doll in his armored fist. The knight’s name was Jaelon, once ranked among the Empire’s strongest, now a blade for the Altar.

“This kid says she’s an adventurer?”

“Let me go! Let me go! Why are you doing this?!” Ria yelled, dangling like a rag doll from Jaelon’s grip.

“An adventurer? Why would an adventurer be here… Oh?” Sirio said, blinking in surprise at the sight of Ria. “Hold on—you’re Ria, aren’t you?”

“… Wait—you know me?” Ria asked, her eyes wide with surprise after she squirmed like a caught kitten.

“Yes, of course~ We’ve met before. Hey, hey, let her go. This one’s one of the kids who helped our people in the village.”

Among the many side quests Ria had cleared for rewards, there was one she had completed that did not directly support the Altar, but in which she had once helped a few impoverished villages struggling on the fringes.

“… Oh, yeah? Alright, I’ll let you go. You’re a good kid after all, aren’t you?” Jaelon said.

Because of that, Ria had survived—and the moment her feet touched solid ground, she let out a long breath of relief she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

To begin with, the Altar’s purpose was never to wipe out the entire Empire.

As long as their God shows up, they probably don’t care what happens to the rest… though, of course, I imagine God’s will might not align with theirs, Ria thought.

“But why did you guys come here? You can’t just attack the Imperial Palace like this… it makes no sense. It’s super dangerous. Wait—did you really get through all those soldiers?” Ria asked.

Ria knew the unexpectedly tolerant nature of the Altar, and for that reason, she had allowed herself to be captured on purpose, determined to confront them and uncover the real motive behind this sudden crisis.

“Hmph, those damned bastards—they destroyed our temple first,” Jaelon replied, gritting his teeth.

Destroyed temple.

Ria thought it over for a moment, then nodded.

I think I’ve seen an event like this before. There’s a trigger—if you destroy enough temples, the Altar invades. But even so, storming straight into the Imperial Palace… doesn’t seem right.

“We were the ones who got suddenly attacked! What we’re doing now is just payback. So…”

At that moment…

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh—!”

Somewhere nearby, a scream tore through the air, followed by the sound of running footsteps.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh—!”

In the main hallway of the old mansion, a woman dashed side to side like a trapped animal, her wild steps ricocheting through the halls.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh—! Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh—!”

The woman ran through the hall as the Altar’s soldiers watched her, their eyes chasing her left and right.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh—!”

As Ria—and the Altar’s soldiers, too—stood there, oddly captivated by the absurdity of it all, they did nothing but watch the bizarre scene develop before them…

“Wait a second. That’s Epherene,” Sirio said, blinking in surprise.

“Epherene? Oh, the mage of time? But it looks like she’s about to become ghost food,” Jaelon replied, raising an eyebrow.

The ghosts chasing after Epherene numbered at least thirty, their forms crowding closely behind her.

Well, she’s got two ways out of this—either her body gets possessed, or she gets ripped to shreds, Jaelon thought.

“Hey, what are you talking about? Do you not know what happens if she dies?” Sirio said, giving Jaelon a nudge, his face turning serious.

“What do you mean, what happens if she—oh.”

Jaelon, too, seemed to realize too late, letting out a breath from his lips, and the Altar’s other soldiers were no different.

“What are you waiting for? Don’t just stand there—go get her,” Sirio said, mana gathering around his hands.

Sophien’s Authority, though incomplete, had now transferred to Epherene. If Epherene were to die in this state, the Authority’s attribute, by its nature, would seek out its original master once more and return to Sophien.

The Altar had struggled to pull Sophien’s Authority from her with everything they had—and if Epherene died now, all that effort would have been for nothing.

“Damn it! What are you all waiting for? Get in there and help—now! If she dies, you die by my hand!” Jaelon commanded, his blade flashing as he unsheathed his sword.

The Altar’s soldiers rushed toward Epherene, their footsteps pounding against the floor.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh—! Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh—!”

Thanks to her nonstop screaming, finding Epherene was the easiest thing in the world.

“Help me…?”

Boom—!

The Altar’s soldiers closed in around her, arriving with the formality of an escort tasked with protecting a head of state.

“… Oh?” Epherene murmured, blinking in a daze as the soldiers closed in around her.

“Hey, stay still. We’re here to protect you,” Jaelon said.

“Yeah. Long time no see, Deculein’s protégé~ If anything happened to you, we’d be in serious trouble, you know? So just stick behind us, okay~?” Sirio said with a smile.

“… Miss Epherene! Where have you been all this time?!” Ria said, throwing herself into Epherene’s arms.

“Oh, Ria? Wait—Ria, what is going on? I mean, what is all this?” Epherene replied, her face full of confusion as she watched the Altar soldiers form a shield around her.

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