A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 232

Chapter 232: Island of the Voice (2)

The Empire had recovered from every scar left by that brutal winter, brought down upon them by the southern advance of the Land of Destruction. Sophien, the Empress, turned that historic catastrophe into opportunity—and she alone drew the line between the living and the dead.

The dead were the old. The living were the young and the adults. The old died because they were weak. The young lived for the very same reason. The old died because their time had passed. The young lived because theirs had not yet come. The old chose death, and in that sacrifice, the young found life.

The old—those too severely wounded to move or who could no longer move—were left without treatment. Their lives were surrendered so that the young and the adults might be spared. And the old, understanding what was asked of them, met that fate in silence.

In the end, the deaths of the old served the Empire—both in the short term and the long. There were fewer mouths to feed, and reason, not sentiment, drove the Empress’s hand. To Sophien, it was not a tragedy. It was a demographic rebirth.

After the southern advance, the work of restoring the people's livelihoods began. The slums and impoverished districts—once preserved under the pretense of tradition—had collapsed on their own. And so, all the land was claimed by the imperial family.

The Empress approached development with strategic care. For the new districts, she adopted the system from the Principality of Yuren’s efficient urban model—and unlike the stubborn officials, she never dismissed it as beneath the Empire. Instead, she recognized its merit with open eyes.

As a result, in just three months, Sophien restored order from chaos, regained control within the Empire, strengthened the monarchy's hold, and established the foundation for a reformation of its social structure.

“... It is all thanks to Your Majesty’s grace. Even the press now sing that Your Majesty is a sovereign of light,” Ahan said with a smile, as Sophien sat by the lakeside of the Imperial Palace, puffing her long pipe in the morning air. “The Empire’s future holds nothing but strength...”

Sophien stared into the lake, and the still water, tugging her fishing line, shimmered like glass. The longer she looked, the more it pressed on her—an odd sense of dread washed over her, as if this moment had already happened. Here, on these waters, Sophien was certain she had once heard someone speak to her.

“... Your Majesty?”

"Hand me the paper,” Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Sophien reached for the newspaper instead of her thoughts. Lately, freedom of the press was a principle she publicly upheld—but only because it gave weight to her silence. Sophien hoped the eyes and ears of the people would uncover the corruption her officials had buried beneath their polished titles.

However, at that moment...

“... What nonsense is this?” Sophien muttered, her expression tightening as she pointed to the bold headline stretched across the top of the paper.

Empress Sophien, Her Majesty, Blocks Deculein's Call for Scarletborn Annihilation with Act of Mercy.

Beneath the headline, every inch was crowded with text.

... It is speculated that Professor Deculein advocated not merely for the suppression of the Scarletborn, but for the complete annihilation of their people.

Such a stance, however, was met with firm resistance from Empress Sophien, a cornerstone of the Empire's moral values. However grave their past may be, the total annihilation of an entire race is an irreversible act—one that history rarely absolves...

Sophien crushed the newspaper in her hand.

Ahan gave a hesitant smile and said, “Oh... that... It appears the article quotes a conversation between Professor Deculein and the Chairwoman—”

“... Professor said this?” Sophien muttered.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ahan continued as she lowered her head. “If I may... perhaps the Professor meant to shoulder the weight of suppressing the Scarletborn alone, so it does not fall upon Your Majesty's crown...”

"Tch," Sophien murmured, reopening the paper.

Just as Ahan had said—all cruelty bore Deculein’s name, while compassion, as ever, was reserved for Sophien, the Empress alone.

“I have not the slightest idea what that man is after.”

Deculein showed nothing of himself behind his eyes, nor did he ever speak the true weight of his thoughts. Outwardly, he seemed to hold a deeper hatred for the Scarletborn than any other—and despite that, when it mattered most for the policy, he was the one noble who insisted they not be judged as a whole.

“If I may...” Ahan said hesitantly. “It may be that the Professor does not wish the people to turn their hearts against Your Majesty.”

“... Turn their hearts against me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. They say when hatred festers with sorrow, it becomes a curse—one that rivals even the grand magic spells.”

“Hmph,” Sophien murmured with a scoff as her eyes fell to the snow globe, where Keiron was inside at her feet.

“... And for that reason, I’ve come to believe—there is no one who holds Your Majesty closer to heart than the Professor—”

“That is enough. Hold your tongue,” Sophien interrupted, tightening her grip on the fishing rod. “When the time comes, I’ll hear the truth from the Professor himself.”

No fish came, but she swept the rod through the water all the same.

“Tell the Professor to report to me once this Island of the Voice business is over. There are answers I intend to tear from him myself.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ahan said, bowing low, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Her Majesty says otherwise, but there’s no hiding that blush on her cheeks—

“Why do you laugh?”

“P-Pardon me? Oh, Your Majesty. I—”

“... See to it I have something to eat. Hunger’s starting to catch up.”

“Yes, Your Majesty! Right away!” Ahan replied, slipping away as if grateful for the excuse.

***

The Island of the Voice surfaced in the Empire’s western territorial waters. News of the phenomenon spread like wildfire, drawing hundreds of adventurers to its shores—only to be detained by Deculein and the Elite Guard of the Imperial Palace, who had already secured the region under imperial authority.

“Come on—how does it make any sense for us to be locked up like this?”

“Unbelievable. Is the Empire seriously trying to pick a fight with the Adventurer’s Guild now? What—do they want to be boycotted?!”

“Okay, sure—an island showed up in the Empire’s waters. So does that mean everything out there belongs to the Empire? What about the fishermen? They catch fish and sell them like always—shouldn’t that all go to the Empire too, then?”

The police station couldn’t hold them all, so they took over a theater by the western shore. It was packed wall to wall—like a market at noon.

"Yawwwn~" Ganesha murmured as she reached for the recently purchased radio.

You know, for an adventurer, having two or three backup plans is just common sense—so I split the team in two before we even set out, Ganesha thought.

“Dozmu, can you hear me?”

— Yes, captain.

An immediate reply came back through the radio.

“Mm-hmm. And where might you be now?” Ganesha asked with a smile.

— I’m right here.

“... What?”

Crackle—

The radio fell silent—then came a voice from somewhere nearby.

“Here, Captain. I’m right here,” Dozmu said.

Seated in the very back row of the theater, Dozmu and the rest of the adventure team gave a wave toward her.

“Ugh, that good-for-nothing idiot... Ugly as hell and can’t do a damn thing right. I swear I’ll smash his face one day,” Ganesha muttered, a vein popping in her brow.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Ria said, turning slowly to take in the theater—at least five hundred people packed inside. “If everyone had gone to the island at once, who knows what could’ve gone wrong?”

At that moment, the theater doors creaked open, and every adventurer’s eyes turned as one as a man stepped inside, adjusting his cuff and glancing at his watch.

“Greetings,” Deculein said, his eyes sweeping across the room full of adventurers.

However, the adventurers only stared at him with nothing but hardened eyes and unwelcoming silence.

“I understand your frustrations. But the Island of the Voice falls under the Empire's jurisdiction, as it is within the Empire’s territorial waters. The law exists to be followed, and I’m sure you would all agree.”

Deculein’s voice left no room for protest, silencing any arguments before they could rise—twisted with contempt, laced with cold scorn, and framed by the faint curl of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“That’s incorrect! The treaty between the Adventurer’s Guild and the Empire clearly states—”

“If it’s a matter of legal interpretation, by all means—any time. We can debate, if that’s your wish. You’re all free to challenge me—individually or all at once,” Deculein interrupted.

A bald man—Durock, a well-known adventurer—stepped forward with his eyes blazing, ready to challenge him. But Deculein silenced him before he could finish his words.

“What—”

“Tell me—do you believe your knowledge of the law stands above mine?” _{freeweɓnovel.cøm}

Durock glared at Deculein one last time before settling back into his seat.

“Well, there’s no winning this one,” Ganesha said with a faint chuckle. “You can’t win if it’s about law. Not against him.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. Most of the guys you see here probably haven’t even read the Adventurers’ Code properly. The smart ones are probably off somewhere working out a real plan—Miss Sylvia, for example.”

“... That makes sense,” Ria muttered, giving a small nod.

Gulp—

“Oh, don’t be like that, Professor~ We’ve got a bit of history between us—and a few favors, too,” Ganesha said, winking at Deculein.

“... Ahem,” Ganesha murmured, her twin tails fluttering. “What do we have to do to get on that island? Or better yet—what are you really after, Professor?”

Is this what it means to be Yukline? Ria thought.

Rustle— Rustle—