A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 266

Chapter 266: Knight and Mage (2)

... People had gathered in the hall of the old mansion, but with the Altar excluded, fewer than ten remained.

The others are gone—either dead or they managed to escape, I thought.

“... They’ve fallen asleep,” Louina said, brushing back her long green hair as she motioned toward the back.

Epherene, the Chairwoman, and Primien were asleep near the sofa, with Adrienne lying on Epherene’s lap, Epherene leaning against the backrest, and Primien sleeping on the floor.

“Since when did you two become so close?” Louina asked, a smile tugging at her lips. “Epherene hugged you as if she’d forgotten Yukline was supposed to be terrifying.”

I shook my head without saying a word.

"Thanks to the Chairwoman, the rumor will reach every corner now."

It was humiliating—and it still makes my stomach turn. Right there in front of Adrienne and everyone else, Epherene suddenly wrapped her arms around me and confessed that she'd overheard my conversation with Yulie.

I was seriously considering punishing Epherene by making her grade papers at the Mage Tower’s Thesis Colloquium or scrub the bathrooms—maybe both.

“Well, let’s just leave the Chairwoman to her nap, as she will likely not be any help at the moment. I’d slip her a sleeping pill if I had one.”

This was no place for fairies, and in it, Adrienne couldn’t channel the insight expected of an Archmage. Then again, she was a rare case—someone who had reached the summit with only destruction spells.

"But do you really think Decalane will come for us?"

“He will come,” I replied.

Epherene said Decalane would come when the sun set—that he had something to tell me.

“But she’s braver than she looks, knowing that not many would dare talk to Decalane like that,” Louina said with a chuckle.

“Epherene has the talent of an Archmage,” I replied. “Though, at present, she’s far too foolish to realize it.”

I fell silent for a moment and checked my wrist watch—it was five in the afternoon. It was too early to call it evening, but the sky was already darkening as the eclipse neared.

“This eclipse will last for about two hours—you have until then to find a way,” Sirio said, and then half of the old mansion sank into the shadow of darkness.

“Why are you always slipping around when you won’t even offer a single bit of help? And by the way, how did you end up in a cult like that?” Louina asked, her brow furrowing.

“Haha. A cult? Honestly, I have no idea. But look—over there,” Sirio replied, pointing to the darkness beyond.

From where Sirio pointed, an eerie chill began to seep through—the unmistakable presence of a ghost.

I turned back, and Adrienne was snoring as if none of it mattered.

Snore— Snore—

Even in the room echoing with snores, I locked my eyes on the shape rising from the darkness, focusing through my Sharp Eyesight.

“There you are."

The ghost of the dead, calling out to me from the dark.

"My son."

It was Decalane.

***

In the depths beneath the cursed old mansion, Decalane guided me to the very bottom. Even as a ghost, it seemed he had lived here like a human—every trace of his magic research was organized with care.

“Take a seat,” Decalane said as he took his place in the chair at the center of the underground, turning his eyes toward me.

Without a word, I took a seat across from Decalane, his face unreadable, and I didn’t bother to show much either.

However, something felt strange within me.

Is this man the father of Deculein, or the father of mine? I thought.

At times like this, I couldn’t help but get confused.

“It’s been a long time.”

“Was it you who locked the door?” I inquired.

“No, the old mansion locked it. It has will, thought, and purpose. It keeps us together—and it’s no less a living thing than a human,” Decalane replied.

My brow tightened.

Decalane crossed one leg over the other.

“Was it your spell?”

“No, I only offered a little help to it. The old mansion gained awareness on its own, and now, it is furious.”

“Why is it furious?”

“The old mansion desired to swallow the Empress.”

I remained silent.

“The Empress was never meant to leave this place, but a soul led her through a hidden passage.”

I already knew which soul he meant.

“Then what is it that the old mansion wants?”

“You know as well as I do—there’s a calamity within the Empress, that it thought itself God.”

The soul of the Altar's God waited outside the world, ready to descend—but its body, at least, seemed to have already arrived in this world.

“He shaped his body to perfection and sent it down into this world. That body was Sophien. His trace lives on in her flesh—and when the time is right, He will assimilate with her soul.”

This wasn’t how the main story was written.

Had something gone wrong, or had I been wrong to believe the story was already decided? I thought.

“Iggyris was the first to know, and he tried to end it by destroying the body. Sophien held Authority—and that alone prevented her from dying.”

Death Regression—an Authority that made it impossible for Sophien to ever die.

"Now it’s only a matter of time. The maggots of the Altar acted too soon and rushed into action. Soon enough, Sophien will be assimilated with God."

However, that Authority now belonged to Epherene, not Sophien—and the Altar had led it there. While it had supported Sophien’s growth, when it came to God's descent, it had become an overwhelming obstruction.

“You know what must be done. Kill Sophien, Deculein. If you make the oath to do so, this old mansion will release you,” Decalane continued. “This mansion has stood as a silent witness to the Empire’s long history. It does not wish for the fall of the house, the Empire, or the continent, as much as you all do.”

“I refuse,” I replied with conviction.

At that moment...

Boom—!

The entire space around us trembled violently.

“Your reason?” Decalane inquired, his expression unchanged.

“Because I know my future—death, and not far from now.”

Decalane remained silent and merely watched me.

"However, knowing my fate does not mean I must accept it. Rather, it gives me a reason to change it."

Decalane’s brow furrowed, and his expression darkened as a cloud passed overhead.

"I have no intention of accepting such a future."

I couldn’t help but find it laughable—this God and the tidal mess He’d thrown me into.

“... I even left Yulie behind,” I continued with a smile.

However, a dark flame burned inside my heart, and the heat was already rising to my throat.

“Now they’ll face what they have to pay the price for,” I added, as if the words had been scorched into my breath.

Telekinesis stirred in my hand as the aura of mana bloomed around me, and the entire space began to tremble, as if resonating with it.

“I am Yukline.”

“I’m proud of you,” Decalane said, watching me in silence before nodding and letting his expression soften.

My expression stiffened, and just like that, everything in my mind went completely blank.

All of a sudden, I felt Deculein’s emotion brushing against my heart, and at those words from Decalane, a joy I hadn’t expected filled me. It brought back the old days—the ones when Deculein chased the recognition of a father who was too perfect to touch and colder than anyone he’d ever known...

“Deculein, I only ever wanted Yukline to be the greatest,” Decalane continued as he stood. “And so I pushed you without mercy, withheld my faith in you, and continued my obsession with immortality—all for that single desire.”

While he spoke, Decalane scanned the piles of research that lined the old mansion—his life's work laid bare around him.

“If I were asked whether I would leave behind a hollow legacy, enough to be laughed at by the world, or become a monster to raise my house to greatness—I chose the latter. Even if it meant the world branded me with the stain of corruption, even if I had to live in another man’s body—as long as I could build a house worthy of greatness—it was worth every cost.”

I looked at Decalane in silence.

“Even until today, I had not trusted you,” Decalane continued, picking up a tome left untouched in the far corner.

As ghosts couldn’t interact with anything physical, Decalane created a magical vision crafted entirely from mana—a unique magical study he named the Study of Art Magic. Coincidence or not, right now I had a quest reward called Category Talent Selection.

“But now, you are worthy of my trust to leave the house to you,” Decalane continued, offering the tome into my hands and meeting my eyes once more. “Indeed, just as you said—you are Yukline. I care not who you once were, or what soul resides within you.”

There was something in Decalane’s words that gave me the feeling it meant more than it seemed. That he said no matter what my soul was now wasn’t just a passing phrase, as my soul wasn’t just Kim Woo-Jin’s or Deculein’s—it was both, merged together.

“Use demonic energy, Deculein. Spare no method, spare no means. Those who speak of morality or virtue in critical moments—rend them where they stand. Those who preach ethics or judge character—crush them without mercy.

“This world runs on a single principle—survival of the fittest, and from those who cannot even understand their origin, there is nothing worth learning from.”

There was a strain in Decalane’s voice when he spoke of the house—an old pride clashing with something far more personal.

“... Be the demon,” Decalane muttered, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Show the world the prestige of Yukline. Let them see it—through your elegance, your confidence. Let your dignity speak—for you, even to a God, an Empress, or a giant.”

Decalane’s crimson eyes locked onto mine.

"Make them fear Yukline."

... In that moment, the way Decalane spoke, he was Yukline to the bone, more than anyone ever could be, and suddenly, everything about him made sense.

“However, don’t you know? I have killed you,” I replied as I slipped the Study of Art Magic into my coat and stood, meeting Decalane’s eyes.

“Beasts do not honor their parents. The parent raises, the children grow. If that child were to become the king of all beasts—no, to become the king.”

Decalane used mana to straighten my clothes.

... Could this, too, be called a father’s care? I thought.

“You must be willing to step over even your own parent's blood. After all, do you not remember that I was the one who pushed Kagan to kill your fiancée?” Decalane added.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and Kim Woo-Jin—who had been raised as an orphan before he ever learned what love looked like—couldn’t say for sure if this was love or something else entirely.

However...

"You are nothing more than a wandering spirit," I said.

Deculein couldn’t stand the thought of becoming like his father—he found it disgusting. But the recognition he had earned from him was something else that he seemed to accept.

"However, whatever it may be, this place holds my memory, and I must meet him."

"You could die because of it," Decalane said.

“It is merely laughable.”

At that moment, something about Decalane’s face changed for the first time—and it was a smile.

"He knows Sophien, perhaps better than she knows herself. For that reason, I must meet him," I said.

"Then go. That memory, too, is waiting for you. I will open the door to the old mansion for you," Decalane replied.

I nodded and turned to leave—only to find him standing there.

“Has Her Majesty come to a decision?” I inquired, meeting the eyes of the one that mirrored mine.

“This is the decision. As you said, I know Sophien better than she knows herself. On the surface, she may resist, but deep within, she desires for us to remain at her side,” he replied.

“... Is that so,” I replied, smiling. “How interesting. I’ve come to the same conclusion.”

***

... The Altar's sudden attack on the Imperial Palace was over in a single night. Their Perception Barrier, meant to cloak them, ended up working against them—trapping them inside their own spell with no way out.

Click-clack— Click-clack—

Sophien walked through the garden of the Imperial Palace, now fallen into silence, where among the corpses of the Altar were those they had slaughtered—maids and eunuchs caught in the massacre.

“...Your blood and broken bodies will fertilize the ground,” Sophien muttered, standing among the corpses. “From your deaths, and the fury of the people, will rise—and with it, it will justify the expedition to the Land of Destruction.”

The Empress always had a plan, and even the bombing of the Altar’s temple, reduced to ash, was no accident, nor was the event she held in the Imperial Palace. In the end, it all came down to one thing—her faith in Keiron. The blood spilled in their sacrifice would not be forgotten but absorbed into the machinery of politics.

"Since more than half of the eunuchs who flitted from faction to faction, pestering me for favor, are now gone..."

“... Hmm,” Sophien murmured, her face tightening as she made her way toward it.

“Cough—! Cough—!”

“Hmph. I’m fine,” Sophien said. “The attack has already been dealt with.”

“Oh~ I’m so glad to hear that, Your Majesty.”

“Wasn’t it Your Majesty who once said I kept too quiet? More importantly,” Keiron replied, then gestured behind him, where he stood. “It’s the Professor, Your Majesty.”

Thud— Thud—

How dare they treat their Empress as if I am on the sidelines, Sophien thought.

Whooooooooosh...

Snap—!