A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 251

Chapter 251: Sacrifice (1)

Arlos sprinted through the snowfield, her stumbling steps stirring up a flurry of white particles around her.

"What is it?!" Jukaken shouted from behind, scrambling after Arlos without knowing why.

"I lined up the tracking locations with the magic circle without giving it much thought," Arlos replied. "But when I looked again, the places where Deculein died seemed strange."

Deculein’s mana was special. Although all those who ascend to the highest realms possess something rare, even among them, Deculein was singular—unique in the purest sense of the word. Deculein’s mana, mirroring his original form, neither faded nor fractured but remained anchored in place, waiting—ever faithful—for the master's return.

"Deculein is mapping out a magic circuit with his own bodies," Arlos added. "Which means, I think I know where he'll die next."

"With his own bodies?" Jukaken replied, his brow furrowing.

"That's damn right. And Gerek’s cooperating with it," Arlos said.

"... Bullshit. Gerek, with Deculein?"

Arlod nodded.

Somewhere along the way, Deculein must have reached out to Gerek for cooperation, and no other explanation could piece together what followed.

"It must have been Gerek—the one who first found Deculein, passed him the magic theory, and told him what to do next."

Gerek's extrasensory perception outmatched that of any living being on the continent—not only in sight, hearing, and smell, but also in all five senses, as well as physical ability, cognitive ability, and perceptual ability. Being such a monster, even Sylvia's vision could possibly be deceived with little effort.

"But there’s no fucking way that he would cooperate with Deculein—"

Jukaken pressed his lips together and fell into thought.

What if the deal Deculein made with Gerek was the right to kill him as many times as he wanted?

"... Was Idnik wrong?" Jukaken muttered.

"No, it’s different. The magic theory Idnik read and the one I read aren't the same."

The magic theory that Idnik had read was a work written by the seventh iteration of Deculein—a record of all he had been up until then.

However, the magic theory left to Arlos had been revised once more by the eighth iteration of Deculein—just before Gerek's infinite cycle of deaths overtook him.

"Anyway, follow me. Let’s go see what Deculein, that professor, is doing right now."

Whisshhhh—

Together, Arlos and Jukaken sprinted through the snowfield, where the trampled ground rose like mist around them. The snow-draped trees, stirred by their passage, let fall slow showers of powdered white.

And...

Swish, swish.

Through the blank canvas of snow, a single line of wind followed from behind, with a current of magic twisting in the air, as if chasing after them.

***

Clack— Clack—

In the dense darkness, only the echo of my dress broke the suffocating silence of the underground. There was no light, no motion in the air—nothing but the stillness, where neither Sylvia's eyes nor the Voice could reach. I walked on, searching for the place where I belonged.

Clack— Clack—

I did not know when the plan had been made; all I knew was that the moment I rose again as myself, Gerek delivered the message to me—and I understood it completely, accepting it as if it had always been a part of me.

Clack— Clack—

Though my existence was but a fake, through my death I could still achieve something, reach the ideal, exterminate the demon—and that alone made it worth it—something bearable, just as the previous versions of myself had.

Clack— Clack—

Suddenly, alongside the sound of my own footsteps, another set of steps echoed through the underground—and with them, a voice called my name from somewhere ahead.

“Deculein.”

Before long, a woman stepped into my path, and though it was unlike me, I found myself stunned as her artistic presence seemed to ignite the darkness itself, as if the underground had bloomed into sudden light under her brilliance.

"It’s Arlos. It’s been a while," Arlos said, a faint smile touching her lips.

Arlos looked at me with unexpected welcome, though the reason behind it remained a mystery to me.

"You were right!" Jukaken said, pointing at me with a look of shock, standing beside Arlos.

Without a word, I stared at Jukaken and Arlos standing before me, and Arlos let out a sigh so small it barely touched the air.

"Professor, have you been killing yourself this whole time?" Arlos asked, stepping closer.

Arlos asked in a voice colored with pity, but to me, the question was little more than a passing breeze.

“Indeed,” I replied, nodding.

Arlos frowned, a fleeting crease touching her brow, yet even that imperfection only deepened the artistry of her beauty—like a brushstroke added to a painting already complete.

"And why did you do that?" Art asked.

"I have found a method, nothing more," I replied.

Among the great laws of magic, one always held true—mana would always resemble its caster, and in my case, the uniqueness of my mana was mental strength.

Therefore, no matter the moment, the connection linking mana to mana never broke or fractured; it remained unshaken and unyielding, stronger than anything else in existence.

“... What kind of method?”

"The method to save that child," I replied.

For that reason, though it was the power of Sylvia and the Voice that had created me, the deeper I became myself, the more I came to understand who I was, the more I claimed my existence—and in the end, there was no one left in this world who could ever replicate me.

With that property that was mine and mine alone, I built a theory that no one else could ever weave...

Arlos fell silent, while Jukaken scratched the back of his neck.

In that tender silence, time slipped by, and into a space untouched by the wind before, a whisper of air began to stir.

"... Are you sure?" Arlos asked, a hint of sympathy threading her voice. "It was the sequence you left behind in the magic circuit that brought us to you. But this magic circle still has many circuits left to complete. Hundreds of times... no, perhaps even thousands."

I no longer knew which iteration of myself stood here now, nor how many deaths I had already chosen, and I would never know how many more deaths the next iterations of myself would choose, or how long this cycle would go on.

However...

"No matter what it demands, I have already made this my choice,” I said.

Arlos swallowed and stared at me, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes glistening like the still depths of a lake at twilight.

“Should it require a thousand deaths from me, if it promises that I save her life..."

Peering into the depths of my heart, I found the Voice's destruction, the death of the existence called myself—and even more than that, the pity I felt for Sylvia, and the emotions that belonged to Kim Woo-Jin.

"I would repeat my choice.”

This was the conclusion I came to—and no matter what storms might break upon the world, I could not, and would not, let Sylvia die.

At that moment...

“Why.”

Like an awl piercing the skin, a voice struck the air, and Arlos and Jukaken flinched, their heads snapping toward the sound. From the depths of the dark underground stepped a child—no, not the child I once knew, but a woman who had grown in the time I had lost.

“... Why.”

It was Sylvia.

***

In the deep darkness of the underground tunnel—within the living veins of the magic circle—Sylvia stood, looking at Deculein, and without a word, he looked at her in return.

“... Why.”

However, Sylvia couldn't understand it, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't accept it.

Why. Why. Why. Why can’t you stay and live here with me? Why are you sacrificing everything you are, just to destroy the Voice? Sylvia thought.

"You can just live here with me, together."

Deculein spoke no words, and the weight of that silence pressed down on Sylvia with suffocating frustration.

"Together..." Sylvia muttered, throwing herself toward Deculein and grabbing him by the collar with both hands.