A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 112

Chapter 112: The Record of Regressions (4)

Between the islands, in the gap of the orbit where magical dust floated aimlessly in the void, Sylvia had seated herself on a pile of rocks in the dark, empty space, her gaze fixed on the emptiness before her. The flow of rocks and mana, revolving like planets under the pull of the Floating Island's gravity, was reflected in her eyes.

“Have you collected your thoughts?” Idnik asked, stepping closer with a quiet rustle.

Sylvia gave a silent nod.

A hawk landed on her shoulder—Swifty, appearing even swifter and sharper than before. Meanwhile, Bearbie Panda rested on her thigh, fast asleep.

“So, what course of action will you take?”

Sylvia gazed at the countless fragments drifting through the air. Materials that had once failed to form an island, now shattered, began to take shape in her mind, piecing together fragments of her memories.

... Deculein von Grahan-Yukline. Are his feelings for me just guilt, pity, or sympathy? How can he say he cares for me after killing my mother? Sylvia thought, remembering his blue eyes—brilliant like crystals, yet cold and distant. That beautiful face, stained with her mother’s blood.

“I will hate him until my dying breath. To the very end of this world, with all my strength,” Sylvia said.

Idnik remained silent, merely observing the landscape that Sylvia’s mana had already begun to shape.

Swoooosh...

Fragments of rock, grains of sand, and dying moss that had once drifted aimlessly were now gathering on the small patch of land, slowly expanding. Materials that had failed to form an island were coming together once more.

“Idnik,” a voice called out, its tone mysterious, as if descending from the heavens.

Both Idnik and Sylvia turned toward the source. A blue figure stood before them, its entire body composed of mana, flickering like an illusion. Though only the upper half of his body was visible, he stood nearly six and a half feet tall. Idnik spoke his name.

“... It’s been a while,” Idnik said. “Rodran.”

Rodran, the Divine Soldier, was a transcendent figure in the Magical Realm and the most wanted criminal on the Floating Island. The title of Divine Soldier arose solely from his bizarre form.

“The Voice draws near.”

“I am aware. What of the request I made?” Idnik asked.

Rodran turned his gaze toward Sylvia. She met his eyes, her expression blank.

Rodran looked at Sylvia and said, “You are the one who killed it.”

Sylvia’s expression grew cold, as if a blade had sliced through her heart.

“The creature born from your mana unconsciously consumed the demon known as Néscĭus. The fusion of your creation and the demon resulted in an aberration,” Rodran continued.

“So, the demon shares some of the blame?” Idnik asked, but Sylvia shook her head. She had no need for excuses.

“Then I’m a murderer as well. The one I killed must have had a family... I’m no different from that professor,” Sylvia said.

Idnik sighed softly. The bloodline of Iliade, and the daughter of Cielia—no matter how she considered it, it was not a good combination.

“What is this Voice you speak of?” Sylvia asked, turning to Idnik.

“... A demon.”

“A demon?”

“Yes. It is an ancient demon known only as the Voice. Those that take on human or monstrous forms are at least manageable—you can kill them. But entities like the Voice, which exist as phenomena or concepts, are far more difficult to contend with,” Idnik continued.

Sylvia suddenly rose to her feet and walked toward Rodran. Looking up at him, she asked, “Is Yukline the one who will face that demon? Is he going to do it?”

Rodran met her gaze in silence, his dry golden eyes gleaming like gemstones, deep with swirling mana.

“You hold the potential for Eternity,” Rodran said at last before departing.

It had been high praise from a legendary figure in the Magical Realm. Yet, Sylvia betrayed no sign of emotion.

Instead, she gazed up at the empty sky and said, “On the Floating Island, there is an unspoken rule that whoever discovers an island owns it.”

She stretched out her hand, and mana had erupted from her slender body like a volcano.

Claaaatter—!

The torrent of mana had drawn the scattered fragments toward her, each particle gaining color as she reconstructed them into a fully formed island.

“So, this island now belongs to me.”

“Hm,” Idnik crossed her arms and leaned against a newly sprouted tree. “What will you name it? You’ll need a name to claim it as your own.”

Sylvia glanced back at her and said, “... The Nameless Island will do.”

***

I had arrived at the Imperial Palace. Avoiding any encounters, I walked through the corridors as Keiron’s words appeared on the Message Paper.

The entrance to the underground chambers is now unlocked.

“Sir Keiron,” I said as I approached the wooden door leading to the palace’s underground chambers. Keiron stood beside it, still as a statue. "How does Her Majesty fare?"

"Her Majesty has retired for the night."

I had become certain that the door to the underground opened only when Sophien had fully succumbed to her lethargy.

Keiron inquired, “Will you be entering?"

"And yourself?"

With a blank expression, Keiron rested his hand on his sword, signaling that he would remain on guard.

“I understand. If Néscĭus emerges from this door, I ask that you follow him instead of killing him,” I said, stepping forward and slowly pushing the handle.

“Will do.”

Creeeak—

The heavy door creaked open, revealing a message that indicated the quest's continuation.

[Darkness of the Imperial Palace—Demon’s Mirror: Second Cycle]

***

In the Imperial Palace garden, Sophien strolled by the lakeside, fighting through the pain. Though she had returned to life, the agony that gripped her, as if her entire body were being crushed beneath an ax, remained as unbearable as before.

Chirp— chirp—

“What day is it today?” Sophien asked the vassal beside her.

“June 3rd, Your Majesty.”

Have I truly regressed? It's been half a year since my death, and now I can't deny it any longer. Damn it. At first, I sighed in relief, but soon realized things had only worsened. Time may have rewound, but the sickness lingers, Sophien thought.

With a heavy sigh, Sophien staggered forward before collapsing by the lakeside. She gazed at the clear water, and her eyes widened in disbelief at what she saw. Stumbling backward, she lost her balance and hit the ground with a dull thud.

“Ah!”

"Your Majesty! Are you unharmed?"

“Your Majesty—”

The attendants rushed over in a frenzy.

Once they had helped her to her feet, Sophien shoved them aside and said, “I’m fine.”

“Are you certain, Your Maj—”

"I said I’m fine. Go, and leave me alone."

As the vassals hesitated before retreating, Sophien swallowed nervously, her gaze locked onto the lake. The clear water, reflecting like a mirror, sent the image back to her.

“... You.”

There, she saw a man—the one who had once introduced himself as a professor. A vision conjured by the illness before her regression.

The man spoke, “It is an honor to see you once again, Your Majesty.”

Sophien instinctively turned, but no one stood behind her. She glanced back at the lake and asked, “Are you the professor?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, it is I.”

“... How can this be possible?"

The moment Sophien realized she had regressed, she had drawn a portrait of the professor and ordered an extensive search. Yet, even after combing the entire continent, no one fitting his description had been found. In the end, she dismissed him as a mere illusion born of her madness.

“I have already informed you,” the professor said, his voice as arrogant and composed as ever, his handsome features unchanged. “I will remain by your side through every step of this journey.”

Sophien stared at him in a daze before reaching out and touching the surface of the lake, sending ripples across the water.

“Ah! Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

“Your Majesty, you must not do this!”

“Even in your suffering, Your Majesty must not consider ending your own life—”

Her vassals, misinterpreting her actions, hurried to her side, and soon after, Sophien was forcibly escorted back to her quarters, where she was effectively confined. Even as this unfolded, her thoughts remained clouded.

"Do you feel well, Your Majesty?" the professor asked, still lingering as a mere reflection—her madness given form. As Sophien remained unmoving, the professor sighed before speaking again. “I am real. If it’s hard to believe, summon someone trustworthy, and I will reveal myself to them—”

“No, it’s fine,” Sophien said, shaking her head firmly. “I believe you, professor. You’re the only one tied to my previous life...”

***

Sophien paused, gritting her teeth as her body convulsed with pain, then continued, “If... if I somehow return to life again... ugh... will I see you again?”

I can't kill those demons. As long as I'm trapped in this mirror, I can't reach Sophien or help her in any way.

Crackle—

Knock, knock—