A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 169

Chapter 169: Secret (1)

Epherene focused her thoughts, defining the intent of her spell with precision. She selected the categories that aligned with its purpose and connected a circuit to channel its energy. The process could be described simply, requiring no superfluous complexity.

Epherene believed in her talent, and thus she disregarded ornamental flourishes and intricate techniques, directing her focus on the fundamental essence of magic—its compression and heating. With the theory of Iron Man by Deculein instilled in her body and soul, it guided her as she extended her hand with measured precision, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

Whooooom...

The bracelet she wore, her personal artifact, began to glow with a brilliant blue light, its radiance awakening the mana buried deep within her core. The unleashed energy spread outward, swirling into the air before coalescing along her arm, coiling like a living stream of power.

"Haah!"

With a focus shout, she thrust her hand forward, unleashing the spell she had prepared. It was a wind property spell, belonging to the destructive category—the Cry of the Tempest.

Whoooooosh—!

The tempest burst from her palm, unraveling into countless threads of wind that slammed against the distant boulder with crushing force. In an instant, the massive stone fractured, splitting from its edges to its very core before crumbling into a cascade of fine fragments.

“Hehe.”

The spell’s execution was flawless—every detail, from its intricate design to its overwhelming force and precision, radiated perfection. A smile of pride curved on Epherene’s lips as she blew gently, dispersing the delicate wisps of smoke that coiled around her palm.

Then she turned to the professor observing her from afar and called out, “Epherene, demonstration complete, Professor!"

Deculein made notes on a document, part of the ongoing evaluation process. The task required assessing the strengths and weaknesses of knights and mages to forge well-balanced teams in preparation for the impending mission.

Deculein, his pen scratching across the document, replied, "You may leave."

“... Yes, Professor.”

As expected, no words of compliment were offered, leaving Epherene with a faint trace of dissatisfaction. She retreated to the base of a tree, its rough bark offering support as she settled against it. From her spot, she watched the next evaluation play out. It seemed Drent’s turn had come.

“Oh?”

At that moment, Epherene’s eyes widened. Down the distant pathway leading to Rekordak, she glimpsed a figure that seemed familiar.

“Professor Louina?!”

At the sound of Epherene’s voice, Drent turned toward her, while Louina offered a soft, knowing smile—a curve of her lips, marked by maturity.

Epherene and Louina gathered in the dining hall, drawn together by matters that sought to be shared.

"... Is it true? That he has no more than five years left to live? Are you entirely certain?" Louina asked.

“Yes, it’s true. I can’t share the specifics, but you have my word—it’s absolutely certain,” Epherene replied.

The two finally cast aside formalities, a change wrought by Epherene’s persistent efforts, which, in the end, wore down Louina’s stubbornness.

"That’s what I thought... I suspected as much, but having it confirmed leaves me with an unexpected emptiness," Louina murmured, her eyes falling to her tray. Epherene could empathize with her completely. "By the way... why is no one sitting there?"

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Louina steered it elsewhere, and Epherene followed her glance. At a distance from the bustling crowd sat Yulie, Deculein’s fiancée, and her deputy, Reylie. No one approached their table, the space around them an invisible boundary no one dared to cross.

"That’s weird. The place is packed with people, but no one is sitting near them," Epherene replied.

The dining hall was crowded; but a strange emptiness hung in the air around them.

"Well, it’s not surprising, given how things ended with Deculein," Louina muttered.

“Sorry? Oh, but it’s not official yet, is it?”

"... Heh. It’s a matter of pride between two prestigious families—Yukline and Freyden. They are most likely negotiating the terms behind closed doors."

"Ah..." Epherene murmured, her head nodding in quiet understanding.

At that moment, someone settled into the seat beside Epherene.

“Who now?” Epherene muttered.

"Who else could it be? It’s me, Leaf," Ihelm said, his eyes narrowing sharply as he turned toward Louina. "You’re here too, I see."

“Yes, hello,” Louina replied.

"Since when were we acquainted enough for such greetings? Anyway, Leaf, how is work? I’ve heard news that you’ve been recklessly distributing Deculein’s theses."

“... N-no, that’s not true. I only read through them briefly with someone else...”

“Oh, Ihelm! Louina!”

Before she could elaborate, a cheerful voice rang out, interrupting the conversation.

“Hey, Ihelm! Louina!”

A bright and clear voice cut through the air, drawing the attention of Epherene and the others. Their eyes fell upon a blond knight approaching, his smile glowing with the warmth of sunlight breaking through the morning mist.

“Sirio?” Louina said, her eyes widened.

“Yes, it’s me, Sirio,” Sirio replied.

Epherene flinched at the sight of Sirio, the Deputy Knight of the Iliade Knights’ Order, renowned as the Master Swordsman—a figure of no small reputation. Alongside him, knights like Raphel and Gwen began settling into seats nearby.

“Why have all these people chosen to gather up here, filling the air with their sweat and noise?” Ihelm said in irritation.

With his constant smile, Sirio replied, "Why not? It’s been ages since we’ve gathered like this. It feels good to see old classmates reunited after so long."

“Old classmates?” Epherene asked in surprise.

“Yes, we’re all former classmates of Deculein, you see. I wonder if Yulie would join us, and make the gathering complete, you know—?” Sirio said with a nod, his words subtly pitched to ensure she could overhear.

It seemed Yulie had heard him; her movements froze, her utensils lingering momentarily in mid-air. Without a word, she rose from her seat and quietly exited the dining hall.

“... Great job, you’ve ruined everything,” Gwen murmured, giving Sirio’s shoulder a light swat.

Sirio rubbed his shoulder with a faintly apologetic smile and said, “Sorry about that. Still, wouldn’t it be nice if everyone made up while we’re all here?” _{freewebnoveℓ.com}

"Made up what? Do you even know Yulie? She’ll probably start eating in her office from now on, never to set foot in the dining hall again," Gwen said.

“Hmm... Fair point.”

"Yes, of course, it’s a fair point."

Epherene observed the conversation between these celebrities, figures frequently cast in the media’s spotlight, with a quiet fascination.

***

The long, dark nights of the Northern Region stretched endlessly as I sat by the window, snowstorms howling just beyond the glass. My attention, however, remained fixed on the list before me—the roster for the impending mission.

1. Yulie 2. Gwen 3. Devlyn 4. Drent.

1. Sirio 2. Lillard 3. Dement 4. Epherene.

1. Raphel 2. Ihelm...

Each grouping was meticulously arranged, their synergy balanced to ensure no disadvantage, no matter the monsters they might face. Drafting this list had consumed 3,000 mana through my Comprehension, a price that assured its effectiveness.

Knock, knock—

Just as I completed the final draft of the roster, a knock echoed through the stillness of the room. Without a word, I used telekinesis to draw the door open.

“Knight Deya, reporting,” Yulie said.

Yulie was, in essence, the one who bore the weight of Rekordak’s responsibility, managing its affairs and overseeing its operations.

"This is the status report on the Rekordak prisoners," Yulie said, placing the report before me.

With Sharp Eyesight, I studied her closely, and the once-looming shadow of an incurable curse had receded, her lifespan now stretching quietly into the years.

With a satisfied nod, I handed her the roster and said, "This is the list for the upcoming mission. Distribute it as needed."

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s another task for you to handle during the night,” I added.

“Yes, sir.”

I handed her three full-length mirrors, each matching her height, their weight pressing against her arms as she held them close. Though her face betrayed no emotion, the quiet intensity in her eyes held an unspoken demand for an explanation

“This is a map,” I said, presenting the artifact I had refined with the power of Midas’ Touch in the Ages. “The key locations are marked. Place the mirrors precisely at these locations and ensure they remain undamaged.”

With my newly acquired Origin, Mirror, this artifact embodied the very essence of its name—reflecting and refracting, but also the ability to bridge and connect distant spaces.

Through them, I could traverse to any location in the Northern Region where they were placed. Though the magic remained in its infancy and carried certain constraints, its potential was boundless—an unfurling horizon of possibilities.

“Yes, sir.”

Yulie did not press for further explanation. She secured the mirrors across her back and departed in silence, a figure seemingly carved from the very essence of the Northern Region.

"... At least now, she won’t lose her way," I murmured to myself.

Yulie had always been burdened by her Poor Wayfinding attribute, but with the map now in her hands, it should guide her steps, offsetting her innate disadvantage.

“Now...”

Returning to my desk, I prepared to lose myself in the only pursuits that sustained me in the Northern Region—writing and painting.

However...

Tap— Tap—

Tap— Tap—

"Oh, Professor! A message has arrived for you!” the postman called. “Here it is!”

The postman drew a letter from his satchel and tossed it upward. The envelope sliced through the air like an arrow, and I caught it mid-flight with a flick of Telekinesis.

Whooosh—!

Deculein... As I write, I imagine the Northern Region shrouded in its endless night... Perhaps this letter shall catch you off guard—surprised, even unsettled, by its personal nature~~ But rest easy, for there is no urgent reason behind this missive. No great purpose compels me, only the idle musings of a restless moment...

It felt strange, but I found myself unwilling to use a crystal orb or message paper... Every now and then, this peculiar longing stirs within me—the desire to forsake magic and rely on something simpler... Haha~~

In my determination to defeat you at Go... I have been diligently practicing the game... I’ve also set aside a bit of time for magic and swordsmanship... However, bunch of these fucking officials~~ What an endless stream of demands they bring... The more I dwell on it, the more their relentless expectations infuriate me... Damn it~~ They are enough to drive me insane...!

News has reached me of your dedication to writing in the Northern Region... And it has sparked a thought within me...! Perhaps you could author a book on Go while you are there... I entrust to you the task of preserving the game's legacy.

And who knows? Somewhere, hidden in the world, there may be untapped talent capable of surpassing both you and me, unknown to us.

Let me bring this letter to a close... It has been nearly a century since I last wrote anything by my own hand—though whether it has indeed been a hundred years, I cannot say~~

Regardless, this is the first time I have taken up the pen in ages, so forgive its clumsiness... You need not trouble yourself with a reply...! Deculein, you arrogant, insufferable one... Persevere well in the Northern Region~~

Yes, Your Majesty. I will strive to fulfill your will to the best of my abilities and with all my effort.

"Hmph!" Reylie muttered, stomping forward and driving the mirror forcefully into the marked spot.

Whooooosh—!

“Oh, great! A magical snowstorm, of all things—why now, of all times!”