A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 153

Chapter 153: Round Table (2)

There was little of significance in the bard’s song—nothing noteworthy, no specific details that stood out. Yet the last verse, the giant and the Empress, remained in my mind.

It felt almost prophetic, that the giant recognized the Empress, and the Empress recognized the giant. As I read those strange lines, I found myself, for some reason, hoping for Sophien’s happiness...

Sophien turned the pages of the poetry book again, quickly locating the verse she was looking for.

The Empress and the Giant recognized each other. The ruler of all humanity, and the Giant, bound to a world it could not abandon, wandered endlessly, searching for something that was both everything and nothing. When the first light pierced the darkness of that realm, an even deeper shadow fell across the land.

Only then did humanity awaken to the truth. Like the Giant, they saw the reality they had long pursued. What they had been seeking in their wandering was not simply a knot—an end never meant for them, but a scar left behind, clinging like a curse...

The verses, stripped of any melody, felt worthless, like absolute shit. With a hardened expression, the Empress closed the book and picked up another volume.

Archaeology: Evidence of the Giants.

Unlike the poetry, this text held many of Deculein’s thoughts. Resting her chin on her hand, Sophien started to sift through his memories.

The continent stretched endlessly before them, and for the giants, this vastness was no less overwhelming. Though they possessed immense bodies and boundless wisdom, it was never enough.

Over time, they began to see everything the world had to offer. They could have roamed across the continent, sailed over seas, and reached the world's end. But upon arriving there, the giants would have lost all desire to continue their existence.

Sophien raised her eyes to the empty space before her. In that void, Deculein seemed to materialize like a faint illusion, seated upright, engrossed in his book. His thoughts flowed to her, faint and distant, like a soft whisper.

But humans were different. They could not bear the weight of such an expansive world in their fragile bodies. They couldn’t capture it fully with their sight, nor could they traverse its endless reaches. Though they desired what the giants did, they lacked the giants' colossal strides and eternal time.

They wanted to set foot on every piece of the earth, but they could not. They longed to know the truth, but it was always beyond their reach. They aspired to become the greatest of all beings, but that dream was forever out of their reach. In the end, humans were destined to die, forever unfulfilled...

... I see it now—the connection between the giants and myself, Sophien thought.

“Hmph.”

Sophien could not foresee what lay ahead in her future. When the years inevitably closed in and the time came for her to return to the earth, she might be bound to an eternal cycle of regression—or perhaps that moment would mark Deculein’s final end.

She wouldn’t know if that moment would be the final one—or, if it came and still wasn’t the end, whether she was ever meant to have an ending at all. Humans are forever trying to fill the emptiness within—when wealth eludes them, they pursue riches; when they are alone, they crave companionship; when their pride is wounded, they thirst for honor.

Even those burdened with immortality, in their own strange way, eventually find themselves longing for death. It was from this paradox that Deculein’s hope for her happiness.

"If my life were filled with endless happiness, do you really believe I would never come to long for death?" Sophien murmured.

Perhaps. If my life were overflowing with happiness, there would be no space for thoughts of death. But if a life were nothing but happiness, it would be a form of mental disorder. Clinically, it's called mania.

“Librarian,” Sophien said, summoning Lexil, who stood nearby.

The librarian bowed his head and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty?”

Sophien stared at the book’s cover in silence. After a long pause, her voice weighted by thought, she said, “Can it be erased?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It can be done,” Lexil replied without hesitation, as though he had anticipated her command.

Sophien briefly closed her eyes, then nodded and said, “Erase it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lexil replied, placing his hand on the book and sweeping away Deculein’s thoughts. “It is done.”

Sophien opened the book once more and flipped through its pages. There was no trace of Deculein’s thoughts left behind. She began to read slowly, letting the words sink in.

Rustle... Rustle...

In the quiet library, the soft rustle of pages formed a gentle rhythm, with faint breaths barely audible in the stillness. Sophien let herself sink into the flow of the words, her mind drifting deeper with each passing line. Then, without warning, she lifted her head, eyes fixed on the empty chair before her, their weight reflecting a deep, quiet calm.

"For some reason... I can’t help but wish you were here with me."

***

The grand hall of the Round Table loomed before them. Epherene and Allen sat in the observation gallery, present as Deculein’s protégés. The section they occupied was separated from the main hall by a pane of glass.

“... There’s something strange about the atmosphere here,” Allen remarked.

“I can feel it too,” Epherene said with a nod.

The arrangement of the grand hall felt overwhelmingly oppressive. Deculein, seated at the center after being invited, was surrounded by twenty-four leaders in a circle, their eyes bearing down on him.

“Monarch Deculein,” an elderly mage addressed him at last.

Epherene recognized the man—Jektaine, head of the Fagon School, specializing in the art of destruction category magic. Her focus deepened, zeroing in on the events as they played out.

"You presented an unproved thesis to the Floating Island without consulting the Round Table. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Though Jektaine's tone was confrontational, Deculein remained composed and replied, "Why is it of concern since the thesis remains unproven?"

Jektaine’s irritation was evident, reflected in the tense faces of the other school leaders. Even Ihelm showed signs of unease. But Epherene remained calm, aware that he had already indicated he would play along.

"Has Yukline decided to neglect the Round Table?"

"There is nothing to neglect. I have simply presented my thesis."

Jektaine found himself momentarily speechless. Epherene sensed the meeting was nearing its end; a resolution would be forced soon, one way or another.

"It appears the prepared documents are unnecessary. I did not anticipate such open disregard from Yukline toward the Round Table," Jektaine remarked.

"Disregard... Perhaps you’ve overlooked Yukline’s significant contributions to the Round Table," Deculein responded.

A wave of uncomfortable throat-clearing followed, as the elder mages, their expressions tight with tension, fixed their glares on Deculein.

Once again, Jektaine stated, "Even if the Floating Island recognizes your thesis, the credit cannot be attributed to you alone. Kagan Luna, your former assistant—aren't you simply continuing the work of his own?"

Epherene bit her lip in frustration. The mention of her father’s name, now used to target Deculein, only fueled the bitterness rising within her.

“That’s correct,” Deculein replied.

The elder mages curled their lips in disdain, silently shaking their heads.

Deculein then continued, "However, his daughter will become my protégé."

“... Protégé?”

Epherene flinched, and the faces of those seated at the Round Table contorted with displeasure. Allen turned toward her, his eyes narrowing with a sharp intensity that seemed to pierce through her.

"Ah, well, you know... Assistant Professor Allen, you're more of a partner than a protégé to the professor. That’s the kind of relationship you have, right...?"

“... Hmm,” Allen muttered, snapping his head to the side, a trace of jealousy flickering in his eyes.

Deculein added, “When the school is established, she will be the one to lead it, not I.”

"... And what is the reason?" Jektaine inquired.

Epherene's features tightened as she silently watched Deculein, awaiting his response.

"Since she is the one who will prove the thesis, the decision has already been made."

Jektaine’s expression tightened as he clicked his tongue and stated, "There is no point in continuing this discussion. The Round Table will not tolerate this any longer."

A sneer spread across Deculein’s face as he said, "Hmm. If the Round Table refuses to tolerate me, I will not tolerate it in return."

Amid the palpable hostility of the twenty-four figures encircling him, Deculein stood unwavering. Not a trace of hesitation marked his stance.

"However, I doubt that all of you are of the same mind, are you?"

Deculein’s very presence cast a heavy shadow over the Round Table. Though they concealed their faces, it was unmistakable that they understood the weight of his words.

With a dark smile curling on his lips, Deculein glanced over the gathered mages and added, "We have more than enough time... Now, let us hear what each of you has to say."

It was a cruel smile, the kind Epherene had long forgotten—chilling and sharp, like the bite of a viper.

"H-h-how dare you! This meeting is adjourned! Leave the Round Table immediately!" Jektaine stammered, his voice trembling between fear and indignation, shaken by Deculein's chilling poise or perhaps unsettled by his sheer boldness, before hastily ordering him to depart.

***

Upon my return from the Round Table, a flurry of threatening letters awaited me. Most bore the mark of the Round Table itself, while others came from figures tied to the Altar or the Scarletborn. One, however, had come from Rohakan.

Hahaha, my dear protégé, it seems you are faring quite well. Word has reached me that you’ve caused a stir at the Round Table. Those old fools have long needed a wake-up call, though I must admit, I did not expect it to come from your hand.

Oh, I trust it is you delivering the blows, not taking them. As for the coin enclosed, I am certain you understand its meaning. The World of the Voice... though it may remain hidden for some time, keep it close. Carla, no doubt, has informed you that this letter is a Message Paper, so I advise you to safeguard it.

Let us remain in touch, as time and fortune permit. Hahaha.

"...And that, I suppose, is my view. Honestly, I believe the time has come for the Round Table to be set right."

As I read through the letter, a middle-aged mage stepped into my office, his hood pulled low over his face. It was Debrun, whom I had recently encountered. It appeared he had at last chosen to side with me.

"I understand," I replied with a nod, pulling a golden toad from the drawer. "Take this."

"Oh, there's really no need for that—"

"This artifact is both ornamental and magical. It responds to hostile mana and murderous intent, so keeping it close would be in your best interest."

"... Yes, Professor," Debrun replied, accepting the toad without hesitation and tucking it carefully into his robe. His tone had already shifted to one of deference. "I am certain there are others who share our perspective. I will reach out to them discreetly."

"Oh, here... I’ve organized the thesis up to the point I understood," Epherene said, handing over the stack of papers, which totaled three hundred pages.

"Oh, thank you—"

Epherene’s mouth fell open in realization, and she exclaimed, "Oh, right!"

The enemies are rapidly growing in number, and the world is entering its mid-phase. While the Altar’s next move is not entirely unpredictable, thorough preparation will be vital...

"Huh? Oh... I think I’m just about finished with it," Drent replied.

“... Ugh. I’m the one who gave everyone the hint, so why am I the only one still stuck?”

“Huh? It’s not an exam?”

“Oh... so it’s still going to count...” Drent muttered, his disappointment evident.

Choo-choooo—!