A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Berhert (1)

The Northern Territory of the Empire was divided into the Northwest, North, and Northeast Regions, each overseen by a margrave whose primary duty was to defend against invaders from the Land of Destruction. While Freyden, the sacred ground of warriors, was the most famous, the Dharman family of the north was equally esteemed.

"Good morning, sir! We hope the Berhert meeting proceeds smoothly!" the Count's elite knights said, saluting Glitheon at the Haalan platform, the capital of Dharman.

Glitheon nodded with a smile and said, "Thank you. Ensure this item is delivered safely to Count Dharman."

"Yes, sir!"

At the train station in Haalan of the Northern Region, heading further north, Sylvia watched a snowflake settle on her nose. She remarked, "It's snowing in April."

Glitheon chuckled and said, "We're in the Northern Region. Come on, let's board."

"Okay."

"Lady Sylvia, hurry up or we'll leave without you~"

"Be quiet."

The group boarded the train. The VVIP compartment, reserved entirely by Iliade, occupied half a carriage and was furnished with beds, sofas, carpets, desks, and chairs, creating a cozy atmosphere.

"Dad, how long will it take?"

"From Haalan, it’s six hours. Once we switch to the express train at the Platform, it will take another three hours," Glitheon said as he settled into the sofa.

The Platform, where the Terh Express Train was located, was exactly that—a platform with no surrounding villages or people. Once they arrived, they would transfer to the Express Train and head straight to Berhert.

"By the way, what was the intelligence about?" Sylvia asked as she set her notebook and pen on the desk.

"A sudden attack," Glitheon replied.

Sylvia's eyes widened as she took her seat at the desk and asked, "Shouldn't you inform the others?"

"Telling them about the attack won't stop it. If we reveal our plans, they'll just devise another, causing unnecessary casualties. Matters between mages should be settled by mages," Glitheon explained, noting her confused expression. He continued, "Berhert is that kind of place, sweetie. Fifteen years ago, it was even worse. Attending the meeting itself was a battle."

"Why?"

"Because... Berhert is a symbol of prestige. The twelve traditional families and the eight new ones, if chosen to attend, have their names recorded in history."

The long intervals of fifteen, twenty, and seventeen years increased Berhert's authority, making attendance a definitive mark of magical nobility, recognized as the pinnacle of prestige in this magical world.

"However, Berhert has special rules."

Families summoned to the meeting who do not attend will never be summoned again. If there is a vacancy, a new family will be invited. If a vacancy occurs among the twelve traditional families, a new family from the emerging families will be selected to replace them.

"Sweetie, how do you think one could dethrone a traditional family?" Glitheon asked.

Sylvia grasped the implication immediately and said, "Then they would face punishment."

Glitheon laughed heartily. He sometimes regretted being so protective of his daughter. Yet, he knew she had to learn these harsh truths eventually, and now seemed as good a time as any to start.

"Sweetie, none of the twelve traditional families started as traditional," Glitheon continued. "If one family were punished, all mage families would suffer. To avoid this, deaths on the way to Berhert are considered natural consequences."

This was essentially a legally sanctioned opportunity for families to target one another. The twisted logic that "only fools get attacked" had become accepted reasoning.

This phenomenon was even more prevalent in the past, with many families disbanding and re-forming under new names just to be summoned to Berhert. The Rewind family, now led by Ihelm, is a prime example of this.

"Compared to the past, these are peaceful times. Although Berhert's authority remains absolute, the new Great Elder, Drjekdan, dislikes disputes. Additionally, there are now many ways to elevate a family's prestige without relying on the summons."

"Of course, many would still try to hinder the process," Glitheon added as Sylvia nodded.

Glitheon smiled quietly, and Sirio chuckled as he gazed out the window.

The train ran on mana stones, their crackling energy humming through the air. Accompanied by this noise, Sylvia sat at her desk and began studying, reviewing Deculein's lessons. She reflected on every word he had said, understanding them in her mind and practicing her mana control. Soon, she took out another notebook—a sketchbook.

Without her realizing it, her drawing transformed into a blue eye weeping a single tear.

***

I was enhancing items in the annex of the mansion:

Geork Custom Suit Jacket _{freewёbnoνel.com}

Geork Custom Suit Vest

Geork Custom Dress Shirt

Geork is the most renowned tailor shop on the continent, and I was enhancing these items with the Midas Touch as preparation for Berhert. In this world, the defensive gear that mages can wear is limited.

Artificially created artifacts have a finite lifespan, and imbuing cloth with magical properties, as opposed to armor, is extremely difficult. Even in the prestigious Yukline family, there are many grimoires but few wearable artifacts.

If a mage wore armor, it could interfere with spellcasting. That’s why I was enhancing a suit with the Midas Touch.

───────

[Geork Custom Suit Jacket]

◆ Information

A custom-made jacket from Geork, the continent's top tailor shop.

Enhanced with Midas Touch, its durability is significantly increased.

◆ Category:

Clothing ? Suit

◆ Special Effects:

Medium physical resistance.

Low magic resistance.

[Midas Touch: Level 3]

───────

Its medium physical resistance is comparable to steel plate armor; it won't tear even if struck by a sword.

"This should do it..."

Over the past two days, I had used around 24,000 mana to strengthen my equipment, ensuring it was adequately fortified.

Knock knock—

“Who is it?”

"It’s me."

It was Yeriel. She walked in without hesitation.

“You're planning to go like that? Without wearing this?” Yeriel said curtly, holding out a robe coat. It was a Treasure beyond mere artifacts, known as the Ancient Yukline Robe Coat. “You saved this for occasions like this, didn’t you?”

... Was she worried about me? The moment this thought crossed my mind, she snapped in her usual curt manner.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not worried about you. It's just that if you die on the way, it will complicate the succession."

"There's no need to worry. I won't die."

“I told you, I’m not worried. If you die, we’ll lose our spot at the Berhert meeting, and succession will be a mess...” Yeriel said, her voice trailing off as she pouted. “By the way, don’t you have anything to say?

“No.”

“... Really?”

“Thanks for the robe.”

“Oh? What?” Yeriel flinched, then shook her head and soon opened the annex door. "No, not that. About Berhert... Never mind. I’m leaving, so do whatever you want with the meeting.”

Roy was already standing outside with a guest and said, “Master, Mr. Allen has arrived.”

Allen stood next to Roy, bowing awkwardly.

Yeriel glanced at him with disdain and asked, “And who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Allen, Assistant Professor to Head Professor Deculein!”

“... Ah, it’s you? Great,” Yeriel said with a hint of annoyance, glancing between Allen and me. As she was leaving, she added, “Good luck. Traveling with him will be exhausting, so take care of yourself.”

Allen entered the room just as Yeriel was leaving, giving a polite bow in her direction.

“Um, Professor, is there anything you need me to do?” Allen asked nervously.

“We depart tomorrow afternoon. Take the time to rest until then.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take the time to rest,” Allen replied, though his face was far from relaxed. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept a wink the previous night.

“Allen.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Take this,” I said, using Telekinesis to hand him the protective robe I had bought the night before. This artifact had excellent defense against both physical and magical attacks. Though it would only last two weeks, it had cost a hefty 30,000 elne.

"Sh-should I really take this?" Allen asked, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Don’t get teary-eyed. If you cry in front of me, I might get angry,” I warned. My Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder extended to tears, and I despised snot.

"Yes, sir!" Allen said, quickly swallowing his tears and carefully putting on the robe. He was visibly moved by its perfect fit and functionality, his eyes welling up once more.

"Go and get some rest in your room."

"Yes, sir. I'll be prepared for any tasks you need me to handle!"

I still had much to do. Besides the Ancient Yukline Robe Coat that Yeriel had given me, I had at least five Wood Steel swords waiting to be enhanced with Midas Touch.

“While my mana recovers...” I muttered, picking up a book, Ertlang's Martial Arts: Intermediate.

Written by the legendary martial artist Ertlang, who had since retired from the front lines, obtaining this Intermediate volume had cost nearly 500,000 elne. The book described an ultimate martial art that incorporated the strengths of various styles—Baguazhang, Jeet Kune Do, Piguaquan, and more...

I started to practice the movements as instructed in the book.

***

Allen and I departed on Saturday at 2 p.m. Roy and the servants saw us off, while Yeriel had already returned to the mansion.

From Gideon Station, we took the express train to Haalan in Dharman, which took seven hours. After having a meal in Haalan and buying a few books that caught my eye with my Wealthy Magnate attribute, we boarded another train heading north for six more hours.

By early Sunday morning, we arrived at the Terh Platform.

“Wow...” Allen muttered, his eyes wide with awe as he looked around.

To be certain, I activated the Villain’s Fate. Veron showed no suspicious signals. Neither Wealthy Magnate nor Villain’s Fate detected anything unusual—he was completely ordinary.

Soon, the worker approached to check our tickets, saying with a laugh, "Good afternoon, Head Professor Deculein. Please take any seat in the VIP section. Haha, you look even more handsome in person."

As Allen and I settled into our seats, someone addressed me, “Oh? Aren't you Professor Deculein?”

“Haha, I’m Roen, a magic analyst and journalist. What an honor to be on the same train as you...”

Chuff chuff—

Roen turned to look out the window, then sat back in his seat. He remarked, “Oh, we’re moving.”

“Wow...”

“Wow...” Allen murmured, his voice heavy with fatigue as his eyes began to droop and his tension eased.

"Ah, yes, sir... I'll take a quick nap."

Tap—

I let him be and retrieved a book from my coat, Ertlang's Martial Arts: Intermediate.

Tick-tock—

Tick-tock—

Tick-tock—

The ticking of his pocket watch's balance wheel was becoming increasingly annoying.

Roen wondered, Hmm, when will we arrive? This silence is driving me mad.

Time passed agonizingly slowly. Finally, after two hours, they reached the fourth station. Roen sighed with relief and stood up. All the remaining passengers, except for Deculein and his assistant, disembarked.

"Haha. It has been an honor sharing this space with you, Professor Deculein. If you'll excuse me, I will take my leave now...?"

But he couldn’t move. His feet seemed stuck, slipping in the same spot no matter how many steps he took. After a futile struggle, Roen turned around. Deculein was still quietly engrossed in his book, yet Roen felt an unseen force holding him in place.

“Wh-what is happening? I need to get off—”

In his panic, he discovered the cause. His pocket watch was suspended in midair, its chain wrapped around his waist, holding him back. Only Deculein could perform such a peculiar act of magic.

“P-professor Deculein? Wh-why are you doing this to me?”

“Think carefully about your actions before you leave,” Deculein said, his voice ominous.

“... I-I’m sorry? What do you mean? Think about what...?”

“You understand exactly what I’m referring to.”

How could he... No, he couldn't possibly know. If he did, he wouldn’t have boarded the train or sat in this small VIP compartment. I need to get off this damn train!

“I’ll give you one last chance to reconsider.”

“No, you’ve completely misunderstood—”

“Five,” Deculein said, suddenly beginning a countdown.

“Four.”

The train started moving again, rapidly picking up speed. Roen’s face turned pale.

“Three.”

“I-I don’t know anything!”

“Two.”

“No, wait! I was just going to get paid 30,000 elne to get off at the fourth stop! Damn it, let me off—”

The Telekinetic hold released, and Roen was flung forward, tumbling across the floor. Desperately, he tried to crawl away.

“Too late.”

A deep, ominous rumble echoed beneath the train, followed by a massive shockwave from its underside, then an explosion.

“Aaah!” Roen screamed as a deafening roar assaulted his ears, and his vision spun wildly.

He assumed the underside of the train had been bombed.

The train is going to shoot up into the air, then tumble down the cliff, and we'll all die horribly... Dead! I’m dead because of Deculein!

Roen’s prediction was only partly correct. The train did shoot up, and Roen was thrown into the air before being slammed back onto the floor, pain radiating through his entire body.

“Ugh...” Roen groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, only to be startled by an unexpected sight. The train was still intact.

He questioned if there had been an explosion at all. However, the underside of the train was clearly dented and mangled. Roen clutched the back of his head, wincing in pain, and looked out the window.

“What...?” Roen said, his mind going blank for a moment. “What on earth...?”

The entire train was suspended in midair. Each car, including the VIP section, hovered as if frozen in time.

“How...?”

It was a surreal and beautiful scene, as if magic had seamlessly blended with nature.

“Oh, I need to...”

Instinctively, Roen pulled out his camera. Remarkably, it was intact, and he began taking pictures of the extraordinary scene.

Click. Click. Click—

The train suspended in midair, the explosion frozen in time—everything held by magic. And then...

"What exactly are you photographing?"

Deculein’s cold voice sliced through the air. He remained absorbed in his book, his assistant still asleep on his shoulder. The tranquility of the scene was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Roen was baffled by the absurdity of the situation. They had all been caught in the explosion together.

“You just need to tell me,” Deculein said, casually turning a page.

Roen then sensed it—footsteps approaching from afar, quick and agile, descending the mountain range. Dark shadows were closing in.

“Who is responsible for this sudden attack?”

Deculein’s blue eyes gleamed with a cold resolve as he lifted his gaze from the book, focusing on the shadows outside.

“Who is the wretched bastard behind it all?”

At that moment, dozens of assassins crashed through the windows.

“Your sole obligation is to reveal the mastermind.”

Meticulously prepared for this moment, the eight cherished shurikens secured at each corner of the train activated simultaneously, exploding with precision and force reminiscent of Claymore mines.