A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 140: Upheaval (3)

“Look at the snow~ Snow, snow, snow~” Epherene sang softly.

As Epherene walked to Deculein’s class, she spread her arms wide, embracing the snowfall that covered the university courtyard in a thick, soft layer.

Drent, trailing behind with his nose in a textbook, chuckled and asked, “Is this your first time seeing snow?”

Epherene spun around, her eyes bright with excitement, and said, “Yeah! It’s my first time!”

“Huh? ... Oh, that’s right. You mentioned you’re from Juhale.”

Snow was a rarity in Iliade. Along with the territory of Yukline, it was often praised as an ideal place to live. But the region’s small size and constant mild weather gave it a sense of sameness that could feel dull over time.

“Looks like you didn’t pay much attention in geography class,” Epherene teased with a grin.

Drent shook his head with a mildly annoyed smile and said, “Let’s move, or we’ll get in trouble.”

Even the professors were attending Deculein’s class today, but this time, it was being held outside the Mage Tower.

“Alright,” Epherene said as she walked ahead, savoring the gentle crunch of snow beneath her boots.

By the time they reached Robeheim Hall, most of the students had already gathered. In Deculein’s class, even a second late was enough to count as tardy, and one tardy could get you expelled with no chance to return. Drent and Epherene quickly slipped into seats at the back.

“... Seems like everyone’s reading the thesis,” Drent muttered, glancing around the room. Nearly all the students were absorbed in Deculein and Luna’s thesis on the invention of the new element.

“Yeah, they’re really taking their time with it...”

Epherene had quietly hoped that the senior mages would master the thesis first and guide the others, but even the professors appeared to be struggling. The magic demanded proficiency in all four great elements.

“It’ll probably take a year or two at the very least,” Drent said.

“Really? It’s going to take that long?” Epherene asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

Drent nodded and said, “That’s the best-case scenario. Most mages learn theory through practice, but this one needs mastery of all four elements. Even top-level mages can’t just develop talents they don’t already possess.”

“... Really?”

The memory of how long it had taken to validate Dukan’s supportive spell theory years ago came to Epherene. She nodded slowly, just as the door flew open and Deculein entered, his footsteps ringing out sharply in the hall.

“Greetings,” Deculein announced as he walked to the podium, placing his papers down with precision. The students hurriedly put away their theses, turning their full attention to him.

“Today, we’ll begin with a short question-and-answer session. I’ll be calling on select students to assess your comprehension. If you fail to answer, points will be deducted, and repeated errors will lead to expulsion.”

The question-and-answer session was supposed to be light, but everyone knew better—it was anything but.

“Are there any mages willing to volunteer?”

The entire room avoided eye contact, and Epherene was no different. She lowered her head so far that only the top of it could be seen.

“You there, the mage with the exposed crown.”

Epherene flinched and hesitated, then slowly lifted her head. As she looked up, she saw Deculein staring directly at her.

“... Sorry? M-me?”

“Rise and analyze this spell,” Deculein commanded.

“Y-yes, Professor!” Epherene stammered as she quickly stood.

Deculein cast the Iron Man magic circle into the air. The spell was a complex web of hundreds of lines and circles, flowing together in a single, continuous stroke.

Deculein focused on a particular section of the magic circle and asked, “What is the function of this triple circuit?”

Caught off guard, Epherene stumbled over her thoughts and said, "Uh... it links the caster’s mana to the spell... no—it stabilizes the connection between them.”

“And what is the dynamic structure for linking the mana?” Deculein questioned once more.

Epherene observed the floating triple circuit. Describing it as triple was an oversimplification; once three or more magic circuits overlapped, the potential patterns multiplied into the hundreds. Each intersection of points, lines, and planes required meticulous calculation.

“The core dynamic structure of this spell is...”

“If necessary, you may illustrate the spell,” Deculein stated.

“Oh, yes, Professor. um...” Epherene mumbled, glancing at her notes before starting to trace the spell in the air.

Scribble, scribble— Scribble, scribble—

Deculein brought his hand down on the podium with force and said, “You’re taking too long.”

“Yes, I'm sorry, Professor! So...”

I should know this. I’ve learned this before, Epherene told herself, but the details felt distant as anxiety tightened her throat.

“... So the dynamic structure begins here, with the dual circuit... and from there...”

“Are you incapable of articulating a single thought, or is your mind utterly vacant?”

“N-no, I mean...”

Deculein advanced, his footsteps reverberating with her pulse, and asked, “If you can’t even grasp the structure of a circuit, what makes you think you can understand this class?”

“I do understand, I really do.”

“If you truly understand, then give me your answer.”

Deculein stood directly in front of her, and Epherene instinctively flinched as she looked up. His oppressive presence, the weight of his mana, was suffocating. This, too, was part of the test.

“... The flow of mana within the dynamic structure begins at the dual circuit. Reinforcing the weakest section at this connection point strengthens the entire circuit, and—”

“What makes you believe the dual circuit is weak? By all magical theory, it’s regarded as the most secure and stable structure.”

“This spell doesn’t function on its own; instead, it amplifies and strengthens another spell, acting like a magical enhancer,” Epherene said, unsure of her own words. She was just saying whatever came to her mind.

Epherene stole a glance at Deculein’s face midway through. To her relief, it seemed she hadn’t been entirely off.

“Good, let’s revisit the triple circuit. What’s the reasoning behind using it here?”

“W-well, um... that is... uh...”

“You’re stalling again,” Deculein said, his voice chilling enough to make Epherene flinch. “One more hesitation, and you’ll be expelled from this class. Now, I’ll ask once more—what’s the reasoning for using a triple circuit here?”

The chilling warning spread through the room, leaving everyone frozen in tense silence.

“You have three seconds to respond.”

Beads of sweat gathered on Epherene’s forehead, and a wave of heat flushed across her back.

“Three,” Deculein said, staring down at her as he began counting.

“Two.”

The other mages silently hoped they wouldn’t be the next to face his intense, unrelenting questions.

“One.”

And...

***

During the break, Epherene sank into her chair, utterly spent. Her face was flushed, heat radiating from her skin as if it could almost steam.

"... Leaf, are you alright?" Drent asked cautiously.

Epherene cast Drent a sideways glare and said, “I’ve told you before, don’t call me Leaf.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. It just seems to fit you better for some reason.”

"... I honestly thought I was about to pass out. I’m feeling super dizzy."

Epherene remembered the crushing pressure of Deculein’s questions, which felt more like an interrogation. It was as though her heart was being gripped, her throat constricting with every word. She barely managed to hold on, but after her, six others had been expelled from class one after another. It was clear that today, Professor Deculein’s goal was to trim down the numbers.

"Don't you think the questions he asked me were tougher than the others?"

"The triple circuit question was brutal. It’s probably easy for the professors, but for us Kendalls—"

"I know!" Epherene straightened up and added, "Why does he always single me out with the toughest questions and..."

Epherene faltered mid-sentence, her thoughts drifting back to something she once overheard Deculein say.

"Perhaps I’ve started to see her as my protégé."

Maybe he’s pushing me harder because he’s already decided I’m his protégé. Is that what he’s thinking? Does that mean the pressure is only going to keep building? I never signed up for this. Is Professor Deculein just expecting me to fall in line without a word? Epherene thought.

“Still, it feels a bit too...” Epherene mumbled, biting her lip before sighing deeply. Out of nowhere, a voice from the distant future echoed in her mind.

“But... in my world, the professor is no longer there.”

A message from her future self echoed in her thoughts, making her wonder what could have unfolded on that day. Lost in thought, Epherene absentmindedly used her Telekinesis to lift Deculein’s Wood Steel. It hovered gently in the air, emitting a soft hum, while she played with it, letting it glide like a delicate butterfly.

At that moment, Deculein walked back into the lecture hall.

"Professah!" Rogerio exclaimed, throwing her hand up with enthusiasm. "I came up with somethin' based on what I learned in class. Could ya take a look? It’s my own twist on it."

Deculein glanced at his watch, then nodded and said, "Go ahead."

"A’right, check this out. It’s a souped-up version o’ Iron Man, mixed with Ductility,” Rogerio said as she formed a wall that rippled like slime, shifting between solid and liquid all at once.

The sight left Epherene in silent awe, a quiet breath of admiration slipping from her lips.

“... So, how ‘bout I use this to trap ya, Professor?” Rogerio asked with dead seriousness. Deculein gave a nod. In an instant, the wall shifted, closing around him. “Hehe, whaddaya think o’ that?”

Rogerio smirked, but in the blink of an eye, the wall dissolved into dust, disappearing without a trace. She blinked in confusion, unsure if it was due to magic interference or if the Professor had simply destroyed it with a spell. It happened so quickly, she didn’t have time to comprehend what had just taken place.

"Rogerio," Deculein said, and she scratched her cheek awkwardly. "An ill-conceived transmutation is more dangerous than not trying one at all. When you change the method carelessly, its flaws become even more obvious. This must have been your magic circle."

In the air, a projection of the flawed magic circle appeared. Rogerio took one look at it and burst out laughing. “Oh, wow! Hahaha! How’d ya know? That’s wicked good!”

Deculein flawlessly reconstructed Rogerio's incomplete transmutation, having visualized the magic with just a brief glance.

"That's enough talking. Now listen closely to the explanation I'm about to give—it will be instructive," Deculein said.

“... Yeah, Prohfessah. Hahaha.”

Deculein began his lecture, referencing Rogerio’s magic circle and said, “Whenever circuits intersect, vulnerabilities are inevitable. But so too are singularities.”

None of his lectures on identifying circuit flaws and features were overlooked. Each explanation and metaphor was absorbed thoroughly, with every detail carefully noted.

"From your observations of Rogerio's magic circle, both the weakness and the singularity surfaced simultaneously..."

Epherene and the other mages, their attention now sharpened, scribbled down notes with fervor.

***

After class, I returned to my office and reviewed the roster of the Freyhem Knights. Rugel, Daniel von Gessel, Brian Deron, Grylls, Roseland—their names appeared one after another.

Most of them would be saved by some influential backer or an old connection. With Yulie taking responsibility for Freyhem's fall, they would continue their careers, untouched. But one name caught my attention.

“... Rockfell,” I muttered.

Rockfell, the former deputy knight of the Freyhem Knights’ Order, was as good as dead in my mind. Josephine may have overstated his crimes, but there was no denying his guilt. Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen into corruption—falsifying records, siphoning funds, pocketing bribes and more...

When the Freyhem Knights collapsed, Rockfell quickly aligned himself with the Iliade Knights' Order. From the outset, he had been the one assigned by his superior to pass the mission on to Veron. With Josephine's confirmation in hand, there was no need for hesitation. I found it strange how desensitized I had become to taking lives, but it was a reality I had long accepted.

"Professor, it's Allen," came Allen's voice after a knock on the door.

I opened the door, and Allen stepped inside.

Allen approached, holding the official letter close to his chest and said, “This concerns the selection of the next Chairperson position.”

"Very well," I responded, briefly scanning the document he handed to me.

... So, Professor Deculein! Mage Ihelm! Let’s settle this once and for all by the end of winter!!!!!!!!!!

It was a simple announcement of the final test to be held this winter for the position. The excessive exclamation marks seemed to echo Adrienne’s voice, practically shouting from the page.

“... So, um... Professor," Allen said, his voice uncharacteristically somber.

I glanced up from the official letter and noticed Allen’s eyes lingering on the medal resting on my desk—the one I’d been awarded for sending tens of thousands of Scarletborn to Roharlak.

"Is it really just for the Scarletborn to face such persecution, simply for existing as they are?"

Allen’s tone remained flat as he asked the question. I quietly set the document aside. Whether he had grown careless, or my suspicions had fed into a self-fulfilling prophecy, I was beginning to see why he stayed by my side.

“Allen,” I said.

“... Yes, Professor?”

"History is a powerful current, like the rise and fall of the tides. Those individuals being swept along can never be sure whether they’re riding the wave or being drawn into the depths."

The Scarletborn were a complicated clan, ostracized for even the slightest trace of demonic blood running through their veins. That ostracism fueled their resistance, and that resistance, in turn, deepened their ostracization—a never-ending cycle.

In the grander scheme of this world, the Altar represented the pinnacle of that endless cycle. Among the countless fanatics drawn to the Altar, several sects of the Scarletborn could be found.

“Those who resist the tide are lost to its depths, while only the survivors will rise and come to grasp the true direction of history,” I concluded.

“... So, are we all being swept along in this current at the moment?”

I gave a slight nod and said, “That’s right.”

“... I understand,” Allen said, bowing his head.

It was a rather unexpected sight. But if this too was just another act, it suited his role all too well.

After weighing the possibilities, I added, “However, not every current flows in the right direction. One day, the tide may shift. As long as breath endures, a new opportunity will inevitably arise.”

Allen looked up at me, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he were a startled deer frozen in place.

"Allen. You asked if the Scarletborn suffer persecution simply for what they are, and that’s true. But whether it is just or not, only time will tell."

Allen’s demeanor shifted slightly. With his hands clenched behind his back, he rose onto the balls of his feet, focusing intently on me.

“... Then, Professor, do you believe...”

Allen didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, then managed a smile and said, “It’s nothing, Professor! I just happened to read something unusual in the paper today.”

“Are you referring to the article about a four-year-old Scarletborn?”

“Ah... so you’ve seen it as well, Professor?”

The article featured a photograph of the four-year-old Scarletborn, a bullet wound piercing the center of their forehead.

Is This Justice?

The original headline from the imperial newspaper by the Voice of Conscience had stirred controversy, leading to the paper being shut down just three hours after that edition was released.

“In every world, one thing is indisputable," I said, addressing Allen directly.

His expression was layered with conflicting emotions, as if he was wrestling with something deep inside—or merely putting on a convincing act. Then again, it was possible his uncertainty was entirely real.

“... No child should bear the weight of guilt.”

I found myself questioning what the true identity of this so-called Allen really was.

[Villain's Fate: Overcame Death Variable...]

***

... Today kept me unusually busy, as I had to balance my lectures with Sophien's lessons.

"This is the book I read today," Sophien said.

The Imperial Palace remained lively and radiant, even with the capital buried under a blanket of snow. Sophien reclined before me, her body draped lazily, coiling and shifting like a restless snake.

"Is reading leaving you in such ennui, Your Majesty?" I asked.

"That, and I had a bit of a falling-out with some of my vassals. Anyway, it's a bestseller called Blue Eyes... Your eyes are blue too, aren’t they?" Sophien remarked, looking directly into my eyes.

I looked into Sophien's eyes, which sparkled like red diamonds, as if the world's rarest jewel had come to life in them. They were utterly beautiful.

Sophien suddenly frowned, her tone sharp as she said, "... What are you staring at? Keep your eyes on the book. I can sense something off about it—there's mana in the text, especially in the way the sentences seem to flow."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I answered, slipping the book into my coat. "I'll read it once our lesson is finished."

I cleared my throat and began preparing for her lesson on runes, but out of nowhere, she shifted to a subject I’d been hoping to avoid.

"There are rumors going around that your fiancée has been caught up in a corruption scandal."

Pretending not to hear, I continued reciting the runes, but the Empress didn’t let up and continued, “The Yulie I know isn’t that kind of knight.”

"... Yes, Your Majesty. I’m aware of it," I replied.

"Then why did you allow it? Why did you let your fiancée be brought to ruin?"

I looked up at her, seeing the doubt in her eyes, and replied, "There are reasons I cannot disclose to Your Majesty."

Sophien narrowed her eyes and slowly sat up, her hair falling softly around her shoulders like a lion’s mane.

"... Deculein."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"You’re keeping something from me," the Empress said, her voice cutting through me, reaching deep into my thoughts.

But I had no intention of pursuing this conversation further, so I replied, "Yes, Your Majesty. I may have my secrets, but I would never mislead you."

"... And you believe you can read my thoughts?"

Sophien was still an incomplete character, someone who had died over and over again, unable to ever live as an ordinary human.

As the quest went on, her growing paranoia and mistrust—common traits for any ruler—would only worsen. It was just like in the original game’s story. There might not be any death variables yet, but as the saying goes, one wrong move could mean the end. I had to stay cautious.

"Regardless of what Your Majesty may think, I have always been honest with you and always will. That will not change," I said.

Sophien fell silent for a moment, as though trying to mask her emotions, but a flicker of surprise showed in her eyes. It seemed I had given the right response.

Sophien cleared her throat and said, "If that's the case, then so be it. Still, you do seem to make a habit of trying to reassure me."

"As is my duty, Your Majesty. However, we still need to continue with the runic language—"

"But your reassurance is far from needed... Enough. I’ll take care of the homework myself, so leave now. I won’t repeat myself," Sophien interrupted.

"... Yes, Your Majesty."

With such a clear dismissal, I had no choice but to comply. I offered a brief bow and stood, carefully stepping back to avoid turning my back on her.

... But just as I glanced toward the door, I noticed Sophien watching me through the narrow crack.

Thud—!

Right up until the moment the door clicked shut.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om