A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 250

Chapter 250: Loss (4)

On the dark island, inside a guild room touched by something colder than the night, Idnik sat with Jukaken and Arlos, the three of them engaged in discussion.

"First things first—our priority now is to capture Gerek. I don’t know what sick game he’s playing, but if he continues to kill Deculein, the magic circle won’t be completed, and it will also affect Sylvia’s mind," Idnik said.

Idnik kept her speculation to herself, withholding it from Jukaken and Arlos as it remained uncertain, and if Deculein’s method was the only way to save the continent, then, as a desert mage, Idnik was prepared to accept the sacrifice of the few for the greater good.

"Okay, and what about the Scarecrow?" Jukaken asked.

"I’ll need to build another. The Scarecrow that was escorting Deculein’s been already broken—Gerek must’ve done it..." Arlos replied.

Creeeeeak—

At that moment, as the door of the guild room creaked open with an eerie sound, Arlos, Jukaken, and Idnik instinctively turned, a shudder running through them and the backs of their necks stiffening.

“Umm...”

The eighth iteration of Deculein stood just beyond the threshold, watching them from within the darkness.

While the guild room remained heavy with silence, Deculein quietly walked in, sat at the desk and chair as if nothing was amiss, and began reading through his magic theory.

"I get that he may be revived on his own... but who led him all the way here?" Jukaken muttered, staring at Deculein.

“... Nobody.”

"Then how did he get here?"

“I don’t know.”

Jukaken and Arlos whispered in shock, their eyes flickering in disbelief, and the tense atmosphere stretched tighter with each passing second until, irritated by it all, Deculein finally turned to face them.

"You all look like you've seen a ghost," Deculein said, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Well, yeah, of course. Because... Gerek killed you."

“Gerek did?” Deculein inquired.

"Yes, Deculein. Gerek is after you. You’re in danger right now. Stay in the guild room for the time being," Arlos replied.

However, Deculein shook his head, and Idnik, saying nothing, continued watching him closely.

"What? I said Gerek is after you," Arlos said, furrowing her brow.

"Three o'clock in the afternoon," Deculein replied, holding up a paper in his hands.

Idnik’s eyes fell on the hiring contract that Deculein had raised, where the names of both Deculein and Sylvia were signed.

"I have a contract to uphold."

Then, Idnik bit down hard as Arlos let out a long sigh and shook her head.

"Well, alright. Do whatever you want. You’ll just come back to life anyway," Jukaken said.

***

“... You’ll just come back to life anyway.”

Perhaps it was Jukaken’s damnable optimism that had led to this situation, and Arlos still found herself wondering from time to time. But she knew, of course, that a single thoughtless word could not have caused it all—though maybe she just needed someone to blame.

Thud—!

Arlos placed a bundle of papers onto the guild room's desk, each sheet marked with an 'X' at every tracking location where Deculein had reportedly died from. Building on that, Arlos spent countless hours trying to track Gerek’s location, his routes, and his every movement, but no matter how hard she searched, the answers refused to reveal themselves.

“Hoo...”

A sigh slipped from Arlos, her breath blooming white in the freezing air, swirling away like a puff of smoke, as winter gripped the Island of the Voice, and the snow that fell each night had already blanketed the land for a full year. The island’s frozen landscape had become a reflection of Sylvia’s image—and, as Idnik had said, it was a dangerously unstable state.

“... Gerek, where the heck are you,” Arlos muttered.

Even after death, Deculein came back to life without ever needing Sylvia’s help, and whenever he ran out of life, his mental strength would draw him back into existence somewhere on the island.

Though Deculein could rise without end, it was meaningless if every time he returned, Gerek killed him again. No matter how many times he revived, it was as if his immortality itself had become nothing but another form of dying.

Arlos stared at the box containing Deculein’s magic theory in silence, untouched for two long years. From time to time, unable to bear the sight of it so abandoned and filled with pity, she would wipe it clean and brush the gathering dust off the box.

"It has already been three years and three months."

Since the days of Jukaken’s misplaced optimism that Deculein would always return from death, three years and three months had slipped by.

In all that time, his tutoring sessions with Sylvia had lasted no more than three months, and the long three years that followed saw Deculein caught in a cycle of death, never once reaching the guild room or touching the threshold of Sylvia’s home—only to be killed by Gerek, again and again.

"... All that tough talk, and you just keep dying," Arlos muttered, holding a crumpled sketch that Deculein had drawn of her long ago. _{freewebnσvel.cѳm}

“Ahem.”

Looking at the sketch of her portrait that Deculein had painted, Arlos couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of longing for him, and sometimes, she even found herself recalling the Professor’s nauseating compliments about her.

That I was mysterious, beautiful, even artistic or something... Arlos thought.

Creeeak—

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Arlos quickly slipped the sketch of her out of sight.

"Hey, Arlos," Jukaken said, not even shaking the snow from his coat. "Idnik says she needs you to come. She says she has something to say."

“... Where?” Arlos replied.

Ever since Gerek had destroyed the puppet scarecrow three years ago, Arlos had avoided leaving the guild room even more, and now there was barely a coin left to buy food and no materials to build another.

"Where Sylvia is. Idnik said to come to the central lighthouse."

A faint crease formed between Arlos's brows.

"Says it's something important, apparently," Jukaken added, shrugging, his expression and face much the same.

***

"... It’s a fairy tale in Etynel," Sylvia had said.

Long ago, on a day blurred by time, Sylvia had shown Deculein a fairy tale she had written herself—in Etynel, the fairy language he had taught her—and made for him alone.

"... A fairy tale," Deculein repeated under his breath.

“... Yes, Professor.”

Reading the fairy tale Sylvia had written, following the proper Etynel grammatical structure, Deculein, her tutor, nodded, and his eyes glided over the sentences as if savoring each word one by one.

"... What do you think?" Sylvia had asked, unable to wait any longer for his review.

"... I haven’t finished reading it yet," Deculein had replied, a faint smile on his lips.

“... Oh. Yes, Professor.”

Nervously fidgeting with her fingers, Sylvia waited for Deculein’s reaction to the fairy tale she had written for him, the tension tightening within her with each passing second, her eyes pinned to his lips as if waiting for his breath to turn into words.

After what felt like an eternity...

"... It is well written."

Deculein’s compliment broke the silence, and in its warmth, Sylvia’s face brightened into a blossoming smile. And...

“... Ah,” Sylvia murmured, opening her eyes.

Today, Sylvia dreamed once more of a bittersweet memory from the past that ached in the depths of her heart. Sylvia pushed herself up from the bed, her long hair tumbling down, so near her waist that it seemed to brush against it.

Then, glancing at the calendar, Sylvia saw it was now the eighth year of the Voice Year. So much time had passed since her first meeting with Deculein—no, so much time had passed without him.

Knock, knock—

At that moment, a knock came at the door, and Sylvia turned slowly toward it just as the door began to open.

“... Sylvia,” Idnik called.

"Idnik, why are you here," Sylvia said through clenched teeth, her face hardening like a blade.

"Cielia called for me, she’s worried about you. This island too—it’s been nothing but winter for a year, Sylvia," Idnik replied.

Sylvia said nothing in response, nor did she raise her eyes to meet Idnik’s.

However, Sylvia broke her silence with the question that mattered to her, and asked, “Did you find Gerek.”

Sylvia had long known that Gerek was killing Deculein, and she had already chased him with her spell, Wind, even bringing a ghost to find him. But Gerek’s extrasensory perception completely outmatched the Wind spell Sylvia had cast.

"No, we couldn’t find him," Idnik replied, shaking her head.

Sylvia is clever enough to understand the purpose of this magic circle and the conditions it demands, Idnik thought.

Crunch, crunch— Crunch, crunch—